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diff --git a/35642-0.txt b/35642-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d10bc4 --- /dev/null +++ b/35642-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13173 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Bible in Spain, by George Borrow, Edited +by Ulick Ralph Burke + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Bible in Spain + Vol. 1 [of 2] + + +Author: George Borrow + +Editor: Ulick Ralph Burke + +Editor: Herbert W. Greene + +Release Date: March 21, 2011 [eBook #35642] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIBLE IN SPAIN*** + + +Transcribed from the 1896 John Murray edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Seville] + + + + + + THE BIBLE IN SPAIN; + + + OR, THE JOURNEYS, ADVENTURES, AND + IMPRISONMENTS OF AN ENGLISHMAN + IN AN ATTEMPT TO CIRCULATE + THE SCRIPTURES IN + THE PENINSULA. + + BY + GEORGE BORROW. + + * * * * * + + _A NEW EDITION_, _WITH NOTES AND A GLOSSARY_, + BY ULICK RALPH BURKE, M.A., + AUTHOR OF “A HISTORY OF SPAIN,” ETC. + + * * * * * + + _IN TWO VOLUMES_. + VOL. I. + + * * * * * + + WITH MAP AND ENGRAVINGS. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. + 1896. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, + STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +It is very seldom that the preface of a work is read; indeed, of late +years most books have been sent into the world without any. I deem it, +however, advisable to write a preface, and to this I humbly call the +attention of the courteous reader, as its perusal will not a little tend +to the proper understanding and appreciation of these volumes. + +The work now offered to the public, and which is styled _The Bible in +Spain_, consists of a narrative of what occurred to me during a residence +in that country, to which I was sent by the Bible Society, as its agent, +for the purpose of printing and circulating the Scriptures. It +comprehends, however, certain journeys and adventures in Portugal, and +leaves me at last in “the land of the _Corahai_,” to which region, after +having undergone considerable buffeting in Spain, I found it expedient to +retire for a season. + +It is very probable that had I visited Spain from mere curiosity, or with +a view of passing a year or two agreeably, I should never have attempted +to give any detailed account of my proceedings, or of what I heard and +saw. I am no tourist, no writer of books of travels; but I went there on +a somewhat remarkable errand, which necessarily led me into strange +situations and positions, involved me in difficulties and perplexities, +and brought me into contact with people of all descriptions and grades; +so that, upon the whole, I flatter myself that a narrative of such a +pilgrimage may not be wholly uninteresting to the public, more especially +as the subject is not trite; for, though various books have been +published about Spain, I believe that the present is the only one in +existence which treats of missionary labour in that country. + +Many things, it is true, will be found in the following volume which have +little connexion with religion, or religious enterprise; I offer, +however, no apology for introducing them. I was, as I may say, from +first to last adrift in Spain, the land of old renown, the land of wonder +and mystery, with better opportunities of becoming acquainted with its +strange secrets and peculiarities than, perhaps, ever yet were afforded +to any individual, certainly to a foreigner; and if in many instances I +have introduced scenes and characters perhaps unprecedented in a work of +this description, I have only to observe, that, during my sojourn in +Spain, I was so unavoidably mixed up with such, that I could scarcely +have given a faithful narrative of what befell me had I not brought them +forward in the manner in which I have done. + +It is worthy of remark, that, called suddenly and unexpectedly “to +undertake the adventure of Spain,” I was not altogether unprepared for +such an enterprise. In the day-dreams of my boyhood, Spain always bore a +considerable share, and I took a particular interest in her, without any +presentiment that I should, at a future time, be called upon to take a +part, however humble, in her strange dramas; which interest, at a very +early period, led me to acquire her noble language, and to make myself +acquainted with her literature (scarcely worthy of the language), her +history, and traditions; so that when I entered Spain for the first time +I felt more at home than I should otherwise have done. + +In Spain I passed five years, which, if not the most eventful, were, I +have no hesitation in saying, the most happy years of my existence. Of +Spain at the present time, now that the day-dream has vanished never, +alas! to return, I entertain the warmest admiration: she is the most +magnificent country in the world, probably the most fertile, and +certainly with the finest climate. Whether her children are worthy of +their mother, is another question, which I shall not attempt to answer; +but content myself with observing that, amongst much that is lamentable +and reprehensible, I have found much that is noble and to be admired: +much stern heroic virtue; much savage and horrible crime; of low vulgar +vice very little, at least amongst the great body of the Spanish nation, +with which my mission lay; for it will be as well here to observe that I +advance no claim to an intimate acquaintance with the Spanish nobility, +from whom I kept as remote as circumstances would permit me; _en +revanche_, however, I have had the honour to live on familiar terms with +the peasants, shepherds, and muleteers of Spain, whose bread and +_bacallao_ I have eaten; who always treated me with kindness and +courtesy, and to whom I have not unfrequently been indebted for shelter +and protection. + + “The generous bearing of Francisco Gonzales, and the high deeds of + Ruy Diaz the Cid, are still sung amongst the fastnesses of the Sierra + Morena.” {0a} + +I believe that no stronger argument can be brought forward in proof of +the natural vigour and resources of Spain, and the sterling character of +her population, than the fact that, at the present day, she is still a +powerful and unexhausted country, and her children still, to a certain +extent, a high-minded and great people. Yes, notwithstanding the misrule +of the brutal and sensual Austrian, the doting Bourbon, and, above all, +the spiritual tyranny of the court of Rome, Spain can still maintain her +own, fight her own combat, and Spaniards are not yet fanatic slaves and +crouching beggars. This is saying much, very much: she has undergone far +more than Naples had ever to bear, and yet the fate of Naples has not +been hers. There is still valour in Asturia, generosity in Aragon, +probity in Old Castile, and the peasant women of La Mancha can still +afford to place a silver fork and a snowy napkin beside the plate of +their guest. Yes, in spite of Austrian, Bourbon, and Rome, there is +still a wide gulf between Spain and Naples. + +Strange as it may sound, Spain is not a fanatic country. {0b} I know +something about her, and declare that she is not, nor has ever been: +Spain never changes. It is true that, for nearly two centuries, she was +the she-butcher, _La Verduga_, of malignant Rome; the chosen instrument +for carrying into effect the atrocious projects of that power; yet +fanaticism was not the spring which impelled her to the work of butchery: +another feeling, in her the predominant one, was worked upon—her fatal +pride. It was by humouring her pride that she was induced to waste her +precious blood and treasure in the Low Country wars, to launch the +Armada, and to many other equally insane actions. Love of Rome had ever +slight influence over her policy; but, flattered by the title of +_Gonfaloniera of the Vicar of Jesus_, and eager to prove herself not +unworthy of the same, she shut her eyes, and rushed upon her own +destruction with the cry of “Charge, Spain!” + +But the arms of Spain became powerless abroad, and she retired within +herself. She ceased to be the tool of the vengeance and cruelty of Rome. +She was not cast aside, however. No! though she could no longer wield +the sword with success against the Lutherans, she might still be turned +to some account. She had still gold and silver, and she was still the +land of the vine and olive. Ceasing to be the butcher, she became the +banker of Rome; and the poor Spaniards, who always esteem it a privilege +to pay another person’s reckoning, were for a long time happy in being +permitted to minister to the grasping cupidity of Rome, who, during the +last century, probably extracted from Spain more treasure than from all +the rest of Christendom. + +But wars came into the land. Napoleon and his fierce Franks invaded +Spain; plunder and devastation ensued, the effects of which will probably +be felt for ages. Spain could no longer pay pence to Peter so freely as +of yore, and from that period she became contemptible in the eyes of +Rome, who has no respect for a nation, save so far as it can minister to +her cruelty or avarice. The Spaniard was still willing to pay, as far as +his means would allow, but he was soon given to understand that he was a +degraded being,—a barbarian; nay, a beggar. Now you may draw the last +_cuarto_ from a Spaniard, provided you will concede to him the title of +cavalier, and rich man, for the old leaven still works as powerfully as +in the time of the first Philip; {0c} but you must never hint that he is +poor, or that his blood is inferior to your own. And the old peasant, on +being informed in what slight estimation he was held, replied, “If I am a +beast, a barbarian, and a beggar withal, I am sorry for it; but, as there +is no remedy, I shall spend these four bushels of barley, which I had +reserved to alleviate the misery of the holy father, in procuring bull +spectacles, and other convenient diversions, for the queen my wife, and +the young princes my children. Beggar! _carajo_! The water of my +village is better than the wine of Rome.” + +I see that in a late pastoral letter directed to the Spaniards, the +father of Rome complains bitterly of the treatment which he has received +in Spain at the hands of naughty men. “My cathedrals are let down,” he +says, “my priests are insulted, and the revenues of my bishops are +curtailed.” He consoles himself, however, with the idea, that this is +the effect of the malice of a few, and that the generality of the nation +love him, especially the peasantry, the innocent peasantry, who shed +tears when they think of the sufferings of their Pope and their religion. +Undeceive yourself, _Batuschca_, undeceive yourself! Spain was ready to +fight for you so long as she could increase her own glory by doing so; +but she took no pleasure in losing battle after battle on your account. +She had no objection to pay money into your coffers in the shape of alms, +expecting, however, that the same would be received with the gratitude +and humility which become those who accept charity. Finding, however, +that you were neither humble nor grateful; suspecting, moreover, that you +held Austria in higher esteem than herself, even as a banker, she +shrugged up her shoulders, and uttered a sentence somewhat similar to +that which I have already put into the mouth of one of her children, +“These four bushels of barley,” etc. + +It is truly surprising what little interest the great body of the Spanish +nation took in the late struggle; and yet it has been called by some, who +ought to know better, a war of religion and principle. It was generally +supposed that Biscay was the stronghold of Carlism, and that the +inhabitants were fanatically attached to their religion, which they +apprehended was in danger. The truth is, that the Basques cared nothing +for Carlos or Rome, and merely took up arms to defend certain rights and +privileges of their own. {0d} For the dwarfish brother of Ferdinand they +always exhibited supreme contempt, which his character, a compound of +imbecility, cowardice, and cruelty, well merited. If they made use of +his name, it was merely as a _cri de guerre_. Much the same may be said +with respect to his Spanish partisans, at least those who appeared in the +field for him. These, however, were of a widely different character from +the Basques, who were brave soldiers and honest men. The Spanish armies +of Don Carlos were composed entirely of thieves and assassins, chiefly +Valencians and Manchegans, who, marshalled under two cutthroats, Cabrera +and Palillos, took advantage of the distracted state of the country to +plunder and massacre the honest part of the community. With respect to +the Queen Regent Christina, of whom the less said the better, the reins +of government fell into her hands on the decease of her husband, and with +them the command of the soldiery. The respectable part of the Spanish +nation, and more especially the honourable and toil-worn peasantry, +loathed and execrated both factions. Oft when I was sharing at nightfall +the frugal fare of the villager of Old or New Castile, on hearing the +distant shot of the _Cristino_ soldier or Carlist bandit, he would invoke +curses on the heads of the two pretenders, not forgetting the holy father +and the goddess of Rome, _Maria Santísima_. Then, with the tiger energy +of the Spaniard when roused, he would start up and exclaim, “_Vamos_, +_Don Jorge_ to the plain, to the plain! I wish to enlist with you, and +to learn the law of the English. To the plain, therefore, to the plain +to-morrow, to circulate the gospel of Inglaterra.” + +Amongst the peasantry of Spain I found my sturdiest supporters; and yet +the holy father supposes that the Spanish labourers are friends and +lovers of his. Undeceive yourself, _Batuschca_! + +But to return to the present work: it is devoted to an account of what +befell me in Spain whilst engaged in distributing the Scripture. With +respect to my poor labours, I wish here to observe that I accomplished +but very little, and that I lay claim to no brilliant successes and +triumphs; indeed, I was sent into Spain more to explore the country, and +to ascertain how far the minds of the people were prepared to receive the +truths of Christianity, than for any other object; I obtained, however, +through the assistance of kind friends, permission from the Spanish +government to print an edition of the sacred volume at Madrid, which I +subsequently circulated in that capital and in the provinces. + +During my sojourn in Spain there were others who wrought good service in +the Gospel cause, and of whose efforts it were unjust to be silent in a +work of this description. Base is the heart which would refuse merit its +meed; and, however insignificant may be the value of any eulogium which +can flow from a pen like mine, I cannot refrain from mentioning with +respect and esteem a few names connected with Gospel enterprise. A +zealous Irish gentleman, of the name of Graydon, {0e} exerted himself +with indefatigable diligence in diffusing the light of Scripture in the +province of Catalonia, and along the southern shores of Spain; whilst two +missionaries from Gibraltar, Messrs. Rule {0f} and Lyon, {0g} during one +entire year, preached Evangelic truth in a church at Cadiz. So much +success attended the efforts of these two last, brave disciples of the +immortal Wesley, that there is every reason for supposing that, had they +not been silenced, and eventually banished from the country, by the +pseudo-liberal faction of the _Moderados_, not only Cadiz, but the +greater part of Andalusia, would by this time have confessed the pure +doctrines of the Gospel, and have discarded for ever the last relics of +Popish superstition. + +More immediately connected with the Bible Society and myself, I am most +happy to take this opportunity of speaking of Luis de Usoz y Rio, {0h} +the scion of an ancient and honourable family of Old Castile, my +coadjutor whilst editing the Spanish New Testament at Madrid. Throughout +my residence in Spain I experienced every mark of friendship from this +gentleman, who, during the periods of my absence in the provinces, and my +numerous and long journeys, cheerfully supplied my place at Madrid, and +exerted himself to the utmost in forwarding the views of the Bible +Society, influenced by no other motive than a hope that its efforts would +eventually contribute to the peace, happiness, and civilization of his +native land. + +In conclusion, I beg leave to state that I am fully aware of the various +faults and inaccuracies of the present work. It is founded on certain +journals which I kept during my stay in Spain, and numerous letters +written to my friends in England, which they had subsequently the +kindness to restore; the greater part, however, consisting of +descriptions of scenery, sketches of character, etc., has been supplied +from memory. In various instances I have omitted the names of places, +which I have either forgotten, or of whose orthography I am uncertain. +The work, as it at present exists, was written in a solitary hamlet in a +remote part of England, where I had neither books to consult, nor friends +of whose opinion or advice I could occasionally avail myself, and under +all the disadvantages which arise from enfeebled health. I have, +however, on a recent occasion, experienced too much of the lenity and +generosity of the public, both of Britain and America, to shrink from +again exposing myself to its gaze; and trust that, if in the present +volumes it find but little to admire, it will give me credit for good +spirit, and for setting down nought in malice. + +_Nov._ 26, 1842. + + + + +CONTENTS OF VOL. I. + + INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITORS [i] + PAGE + CHAPTER I. +Man overboard—The Tagus—Foreign 1 +Languages—Gesticulation—Streets of Lisbon—The +Aqueduct—Bible tolerated in Portugal—Cintra—Don +Sebastian—John de Castro—Conversation with a +Priest—Colhares—Mafra—Its Palace—The Schoolmaster—The +Portuguese—Their Ignorance of Scripture—Rural +Priesthood—The Alemtejo + CHAPTER II. +Boatmen of the Tagus—Dangers of the Stream—Aldea 17 +Gallega—The Hostelry—Robbers—Sabocha—Adventure of a +Muleteer—Estalagem de Ladrões—Don Geronimo—Vendas +Novas—Royal Residence—Swine of the Alemtejo—Monte +Moro—Swayne Vonved—Singular Goatherd—Children of the +Fields—Infidels and Sadducees + CHAPTER III. +Shopkeeper at Evora—Spanish Contrabandistas—Lion and 33 +Unicorn—The Fountain—Trust in the Almighty—Distribution of +Tracts—Library at Evora—Manuscript—The Bible as a +Guide—The Infamous Mary—The Man of Palmella—The Charm—The +Monkish System—Sunday—Volney—An Auto-da-Fé—Men from +Spain—Reading of a Tract—New Arrival—The Herb Rosemary + CHAPTER IV. +Vexatious Delays—Drunken Driver—The Murdered Mule—The 48 +Lamentation—Adventure on the Heath—Fear of +Darkness—Portuguese Fidalgo—The Escort—Return to Lisbon + CHAPTER V. +The College—The Rector—Shibboleth—National 59 +Prejudices—Youthful Sports—Jews of Lisbon—Bad Faith—Crime +and Superstition + CHAPTER VI. +Cold of Portugal—Extortion prevented—Sensation of 71 +Loneliness—The Dog—The Convent—Enchanting +Landscape—Moorish Fortresses—Prayer for the Sick + CHAPTER VII. +The Druid’s Stone—The Young Spaniard—Ruffianly 82 +Soldiers—Evils of War—Estremoz—The Brawl—Ruined +Watch-tower—Glimpse of Spain—Old Times and New + CHAPTER VIII. +Elvas—Extraordinary Longevity—The English 94 +Nation—Portuguese +Ingratitude—Illiberality—Fortifications—Spanish +Beggar—Badajoz—The Custom-House + CHAPTER IX. +Badajoz—Antonio the Gypsy—Antonio’s Proposal—The Proposal 105 +accepted—Gypsy Breakfast—Departure from Badajoz—The Gypsy +Donkey—Merida—The Ruined Wall—The Crone—The Land of the +Moor—The Black Men—Life in the Desert—The Supper + CHAPTER X. +The Gypsy’s Granddaughter—Proposed Marriage—The 122 +Alguazil—The Assault—Speedy Trot—Arrival at Trujillo—Night +and Rain—The Forest—The Bivouac—Mount and +Away!—Jaraicejo—The National—The Cavalier Balmerson—Among +the Thickets—Serious Discourse—What is Truth?—Unexpected +Intelligence + CHAPTER XI. +The Pass of Mirabete—Wolves and Shepherds—Female 145 +Subtlety—Death by Wolves—The Mystery solved—The +Mountains—The Dark Hour—The Traveller of the +Night—Abarbenel—Hoarded Treasure—Force of Gold—The +Archbishop—Arrival at Madrid + CHAPTER XII. +Lodging at Madrid—My Hostess—British 162 +Ambassador—Mendizabal—Baltasar—Duties of a National—Young +Blood—The Execution—Population of Madrid—The Higher +Orders—The Lower Classes—The Bull-fighter—The Crabbed +Gitano + CHAPTER XIII. +Intrigues at Court—Quesada and Galiano—Dissolution of the 179 +Cortes—The Secretary—Aragonese Pertinacity—The Council of +Trent—The Asturian—The Three Thieves—Benedict Mol—The Men +of Lucerne—The Treasure + CHAPTER XIV. +State of Spain—Isturitz—Revolution of the Granja—The 194 +Disturbance—Signs of Mischief—Newspaper +Reporters—Quesada’s Onslaught—The Closing Scene—Flight of +the Moderados—The Coffee Bowl + CHAPTER XV. +The Steamer—Cape Finisterre—The Storm—Arrival at Cadiz—The 208 +New Testament—Seville—Italica—The Amphitheatre—The +Prisoners—The Encounter—Baron Taylor—The Street and Desert + CHAPTER XVI. +Departure for Cordova—Carmona—German Colonies—Language—The 223 +Sluggish Horse—Nocturnal Welcome—Carlist Landlord—Good +Advice—Gomez—The Old Genoese—The Two Opinions + CHAPTER XVII. +Cordova—Moors of Barbary—The English—An Old Priest—The 233 +Roman Breviary—The Dovecote—The Holy +Office—Judaism—Desecration of Dovecotes—The Innkeeper’s +Proposal + CHAPTER XVIII. +Departure from Cordova—The Contrabandista—Jewish 252 +Cunning—Arrival at Madrid + CHAPTER XIX. +Arrival at Madrid—Maria Diaz—Printing of the Testament—My 256 +Project—Andalusian Steed—Servant Wanted—An +Application—Antonio Buchini—General Cordova—Principles of +Honour + CHAPTER XX. +Illness—Nocturnal Visit—A Master Mind—The 270 +Whisper—Salamanca—Irish Hospitality—Spanish Soldiers—The +Scriptures advertised + CHAPTER XXI. +Departure from Salamanca—Reception at Pitiegua—The 280 +Dilemma—Sudden Inspiration—The Good Presbyter—Combat of +Quadrupeds—Irish Christians—Plains of Spain—The +Catalans—The Fatal Pool—Valladolid—Circulation of the +Scriptures—Philippine Missions—English College—A +Conversation—The Gaoleress + CHAPTER XXII. +Dueñas—Children of Egypt—Jockeyism—The Baggage Pony—The 303 +Fall—Palencia—Carlist Priests—The Look-out—Priestly +Sincerity—Leon—Antonio alarmed—Heat and Dust + CHAPTER XXIII. +Astorga—The Inn—The Maragatos—Habits of the Maragatos—The 319 +Statue + CHAPTER XXIV. +Departure from Astorga—The Venta—The By-path—Narrow 326 +Escape—The Cup of Water—Sun and Shade—Bembibre—Convent of +the Rocks—Sunset—Cacabelos—Midnight Adventure—Villafranca + CHAPTER XXV. +Villafranca—The Pass—Gallegan Simplicity—The Frontier 343 +Guard—The Horse-shoe—Gallegan Peculiarities—A Word on +Language—The Courier—Wretched Cabins—Host and +Guests—Andalusians + CHAPTER XXVI. +Lugo—The Baths—A Family History—Miguelets—The Three 358 +Heads—A Farrier—English Squadron—Sale of +Testaments—Corunna—The Recognition—Luigi Piozzi—The +Speculation—A Blank Prospect—John Moore + CHAPTER XXVII. +Compostella—Rey Romero—The Treasure-seeker—Hopeful 377 +Project—The Church of Refuge—Hidden Riches—The +Canon—Spirit of Localism—The Leper—Bones of Saint James + CHAPTER XXVIII. +Skippers of Padron—Caldas de los Reyes—Pontevedra—The 392 +Notary Public—Insane Barber—An Introduction—Gallegan +Language—Afternoon Ride—Vigo—The Stranger—Jews of the +Desert—Bay of Vigo—Sudden Interruption—The Governor + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + VOL. I. + PAGE +SEVILLE _Frontispiece_ +INTERIOR OF THE MOSQUE, CORDOVA _To face_ 238 + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +PART I. + + +When George Borrow, in the month of November, 1835, steamed up the Tagus +on his adventurous journey to distribute the Bible in Spain, the +political situation throughout the Peninsula was so complicated and so +extraordinary, that a brief review of the events of the few years +immediately preceding his arrival will be necessary to enable any one but +a specially instructed reader to appreciate, or even to understand, his +position and his adventures. + +When Ferdinand VII. was restored to his kingdom by the British arms in +1814, Spain was still governed by the Cortes elected under the Liberal +Constitution of 1812. + +Ferdinand, having sworn many oaths to maintain this Constitution and +Parliamentary Institutions in the country, no sooner found himself firmly +seated on the throne, than, encouraged by the clergy within his +dominions, and by the Holy Alliance in Northern Europe, he issued an +edict dissolving the Cortes, and reviving the old absolutism with all the +old abuses in Spain. + +The nobles were once again exempted from taxation; the monasteries were +restored; the Jesuits returned to Spain; the Inquisition was formally +re-established; all Liberal politicians were persecuted to the death. +For six years this royalist reign of terror—more dreadful by far than the +_Terreur blanche_ in contemporary France—was continued, until at length, +the great American colonies having asserted their independence, {2} the +standard of revolt was raised in Spain by Riego and Quiroga, two officers +in command of an expedition which was just about to sail from Cadiz to +renew the war against the colonists in South America in January, 1820. +The success of this political revolution was prompt and complete. In +March the king gave way, and once more accepted the Constitution of 1812; +and an administration of moderate reformers was formed under Martinez de +la Rosa, a well-known man of letters, and was generally acceptable to the +country. + +After much intrigue and factious opposition, both on the part of the +extreme Royalists and the extreme Radicals, the election of Riego to the +Presidency of the Cortes in 1822 marked the extreme limit of the triumph +of the Liberal party in Spain. + +The Congress of Verona in October, 1822; the growing pretensions of the +Holy Alliance; the mission of the Duke of Wellington, with George +Canning’s protest against the armed intervention of any of the Powers in +the domestic affairs of the Peninsula; and the ultimate invasion of Spain +by a French army of 100,000 men under the Duc d’Angoulême, eldest son of +the Comte d’Artois, afterwards Charles X., in April, 1823;—these things +belong as much to European as to Spanish history, and need only be +referred to in passing. + +The French army, as may be supposed, met with no serious opposition. +Madrid was easily occupied before the end of May. Cadiz, maintaining a +brief but honourable resistance, yielded to a bombardment in September; +and Ferdinand VII., reinvested with absolute power over his subjects by +foreign artillery and foreign bayonets in October, 1823, immediately +unswore all his oaths, and restored all the old tyranny and abuses in +Spain. Riego was at once put to death. All Liberals and even +_moderados_ were exposed to a sanguinary and relentless persecution. The +leaders and their richer and more important partisans were as a rule able +to make good their flight, in many cases to England; but their humbler +followers paid the penalty of their liberalism with their lives. The +French army of occupation remained in Spain for four years—1823–1827—and +Cadiz was not evacuated until 1828. + +In September, 1824, Charles X. succeeded the more liberal Louis XVIII. on +the throne of France, and George Canning, unable to compel or persuade +the French to leave the Spanish people to themselves in Spain, “called a +new world into existence to restore the balance in the old,” and +recognized the independence of the Spanish American colonies. + +In 1829 Ferdinand VII. married, as his fourth wife, Maria Christina of +Naples, a sister of the Duchesse de Berri; {3} and on October 10, 1830, +the queen gave birth to a daughter, who was christened Isabella, +afterwards so well known as Isabel II. of Spain. {4a} The king, her +father, immediately issued a Pragmatic Sanction, declaring the Salic law +to be of no effect in Spain; and the young princess was accordingly +recognized as heir-apparent to the crown. A formal protest was made by +King Ferdinand’s younger brother, Don Carlos, who found himself thus +excluded from the succession, against this decree, and who soon +afterwards quitted Spain. + +On Michaelmas Day, 1833, Ferdinand VII. died, and his daughter Isabella +was immediately proclaimed queen, as Isabel II., with her mother Doña +Cristina as regent, {4b} of Spain throughout Spain. + +Don Carlos, who had taken refuge in Portugal, found himself unable to +cross the frontier, and was constrained to make his way from Lisbon by +sea to London, and thence by way of France into the Basque provinces, +where he arrived in September, 1834. Thus were founded the Carlist and +the _Cristino_ parties; and on the side of the former were at once ranged +all the Basques, and the representatives of the absolutist and +ultra-clerical party throughout Spain. + +Don Carlos himself, unable to cross the frontier, {4c} made his way from +Portugal to England, and thence through France (May, 1834), where his +pretensions were not unfavourably regarded, into Northern Spain +(September, 1834). Mendizabal, a Cadiz Jew of much financial skill, who +had acquired great experience and some consideration in England during +his exile from 1823 to 1833, became Prime Minister of the Regency. + + + + +PART II. + + +On the outbreak of hostilities in the north-west, the most capable +commander on the side of the Carlists was the Basque, Tomás +Zumalacarregui. Born at Ormastegui, in Guipuzcoa, in 1788, he had served +in the Spanish army from 1808 to 1831 without finding any special favour +or advancement from king or Cortes. Dismissed the service in 1831, he +emerged from his retirement on the death of Ferdinand VII. in 1833, and, +openly attaching himself to the Carlist fortunes, he took the field +against the queen’s troops at the head of some eight hundred partisans. +So great was his zeal and energy, and so popular was Zumalacarregui +himself in his native Guipuzcoa, that in less than a year this little +force had grown in his hands into an army of over thirty-five thousand +men, superior not only in fighting qualities, but even in discipline, to +any of the queen’s forces, fairly armed, and well supplied with food and +clothing. + +But in spite of his commanding qualities, which made him indispensable to +the Carlist cause, the success of the blunt and robust soldier excited +the jealousy, not only of his subordinate commanders, and of the priests +and women who had so great an influence at the court of Don Carlos, but +even of the Pretender himself. + +The only general who may be compared with Zumalacarregui on the Carlist +side was born at Tortosa, at the mouth of the Ebro, as late as December, +1806, and was thus nearly twenty years younger than the Basque commander. + +Cabrera was destined for the priesthood, and actually received the +_tonsura_ in 1825, but in 1833 he quitted the convent of the +_Trinitarios_ at Tortosa and joined the Carlist army near the historic +mountain fortress of Morella in November, 1833; and in less than twelve +months he had been appointed a colonel in the Carlist army in Aragon. + +On the side of the Constitutionalists there was no display of military +talent, or even of capacity. Rodil, Amildez, Mina, Valdez, followed each +other without advantage to the queen’s cause, and in spite of all the +advantages incident to a regular government, with command of the capital +and all the departments, little or no advantage was gained by the +Constitutional forces for long after the first outbreak of hostilities. +The war, however, was carried on by both _Cristinos_ and Carlists with +the utmost savagery. + +The wholesale massacre of wounded and prisoners by both the _Cristino_ +and Carlist generals aroused the indignation of every civilized +community, and especially in England, where an uneasy sense of +responsibility for the atrocities which were committed was natural in +view of the fact that the government had taken to some extent an official +part in the war, and that English regiments were soon to be exposed to +the cruelties against which the whole of Europe was protesting. The +pressure of public opinion in England, indeed, was so strong that at +length Lord Eliot was despatched to Spain to negotiate a convention +between the belligerents which would ensure the ordinary laws of +civilized warfare being obeyed. It was a difficult task. {7a} + +But by the exertions of Lord Eliot and Colonel Wylde of the Royal +Artillery, who was serving as a kind of military _attaché_ at the +head-quarters of the queen’s forces, a convention, known as the “Eliot +Convention,” was at length signed by Zumalacarregui at or near Logroño, +on April 27 and 28, 1835. + +The convention, as might have been supposed, was in practice regarded by +neither party, and was evaded when not actually set at nought. It was +said not to apply to any part of Spain but the Basque provinces, nor to +any troops enlisted after its signature in April; but the massacre of +prisoners was possibly not so systematically carried out after the +agreement as it had been before. But, strangest of all, as soon as the +news of the signature of this convention became known at Madrid, the +utmost indignation was expressed, not only by the populace of Madrid, but +in the Cortes. An attempt was made to kill Señor Martinez de la Rosa in +the streets by an armed mob, and the ministry was compelled to resign. +Count Toreno was then called to the supreme power on June 7, with +Mendizabal as finance minister. + +Meanwhile the military skill of Zumalacarregui in the Basque provinces, +and of Cabrera in the east of Spain, had alone prolonged the struggle +during 1834 and 1835; but the death of Zumalacarregui from a wound +received in action near Bilbao in June, 1835, was a serious blow to the +hopes of the Pretender, although there are good grounds for supposing +that the bold general’s end was hastened by poison administered by his +own partisans. {8} + +In the month of April of this same year, 1835, Lord Palmerston, who, +after a brief retirement from office in 1834, was once more Foreign +Secretary in London, had sanctioned the enlisting of an army of ten +thousand men in England, which, under the command of Colonel, afterwards +Sir de Lacy Evans, landed at San Sebastian in August to assist the +government of the regency to put down the Carlists in the northwest. +There was already a British Auxiliary Contingent attached to the Spanish +army, and the British Naval Squadron, under Lord John Hay, assisted the +_Cristinos_ on the coast between Bilbao and Santander. + +But neither the native nor the British supporters of the regent were at +this time successful in the Basque provinces. Bilbao was for many months +besieged, and was at length relieved only in the month of December, 1836, +by the English forces co-operating with Espartero, who was created, for +his share in the victory, Count of Luchana. + +The ministry of Count Toreno had lasted only from June to September +(1835), when Mendizabal assumed the chief direction of affairs; and it +was just two months later (November, 1835) that George Borrow first set +foot on the soil of the Peninsula. + +Mendizabal continued to be Prime Minister until May, 1836, when he was +succeeded by a coalition ministry of Isturitz, Galiano and the Duke of +Rivas (see text, p. 181), under whose administration took place the +military riots at Madrid (August 11, 12), which were most bravely +repressed by General Quesada, the commandant of the city, as so +graphically recorded by Borrow (pp. 202–205). Yet Quesada’s valour was +of no avail. The decree of La Granja, of August 13 and 14, extorted from +the fears of the queen regent by actual threats of military violence, was +followed by the precipitate flight of Isturitz and Galiano to France, and +of the Duke of Rivas to Gibraltar, and the assumption of power by Señor +Calatrava, with Mendizabal as Minister of Finance. Quesada was murdered, +as is said and sung on p. 206 of the text. + +If the _Cristino_ cause had made but little progress in 1836, there was +even less encouragement to be found in the result of the military +operations in the earlier part of 1837. General Evans was defeated at +Hernani, near San Sebastian, in March, and although Lord John Hay with +his English mariners took Irun, Don Carlos was allowed to march almost +unopposed upon the capital. On September 12, he found himself within +four leagues of Madrid, and had it not been for his own poltroonery and +the jealousy and incompetence of those by whom he was surrounded, he +might have ridden into the Puerta del Sol on the next day as King of +Spain. But, _dis aliter visum_ and all undefeated, he turned his back +upon La Corte, and marched northwards with no apparent reason or policy, +closely pressed by the new commander-in-chief of the _Cristino_ forces, a +man whose name is distinguished above that of any of his fellows in the +contemporary history of his country. + +Baldomero Espartero, the son of a village wheelwright in La Mancha, was +born in 1792. Destined, like Cabrera, for the priesthood, he took up +arms on the French invasion in 1808, and at the conclusion of the War of +Independence in 1814 obtained a military position in Peru, in which he +had an opportunity of distinguishing himself. After the capitulation of +Ayacucho, when the independence of Peru was finally recognized, Espartero +returned to Spain, and after some ten years of uneventful but honoured +service in the home army he found himself, in 1833, entrusted with an +important command in the queen’s army. Indolent and yet ambitious, +dilatory and yet vigorous when opportunity offered, loyal and yet +politically untrustworthy, Espartero flourished in the troublous times in +which he found himself, and made a name for himself both in camp and +court; and having, as we have seen, been created Count of Luchana on the +relief of Bilbao, he had taken the place of Señor Calatrava as Prime +Minister in August, 1837, and was succeeded in the following October by +Don José Maria Perez, who in turn gave place to Ofalia on November 30 +(see text, vol. ii. pp. 100, 121), when Espartero returned to Madrid as +Minister of War. + +Cabrera meanwhile was ravaging Aragon and Valencia, and continued not +only absolutely to disregard the Eliot Convention, and to massacre all +the military prisoners that surrendered to him, but to put to death the +women and even the children that fell into his hands. + +But with the war in Aragon and Catalonia, the readers of Borrow’s _Bible +in Spain_ have happily no need further to concern themselves. + +The British legion, which, after two years’ evil fortune was at length +becoming a force of some military value, was broken up and sent back to +London at the expense of the British treasury, though a remnant elected +to remain in the Peninsula, which did good service until the close of the +year as the “British Auxiliary Brigade.” + +In the spring of 1838 Espartero once more assumed the command of the +queen’s army with the title of captain-general, and gained an indecisive +victory over the Carlists at Peñacerrada, between Logroño and Vitoria, in +June, 1838; while Cabrera was able to repulse the queen’s forces who +sought to drive him from the strong position he had taken up at Aragon. + +The ministry resigned in August, and the Duke of Frias presided over a +short-lived cabinet, for in December, 1838, a new ministry was formed +under Señor Perez de Castro; and Espartero, at length assuming the +offensive with some vigour, was enabled, by the treachery of the Carlist +general Maroto, to march unopposed into Orduña, the ancient capital of +Biscay, in May, 1839. + +After this practical victory Espartero was hailed as the saviour of his +country, and received the title of Duque de la Victoria. Dissension soon +completed what treachery had so well begun. + +Even among the strong partisan officials of Don Carlos there were three +parties, viz. _Marotistas_, men whose professed object was to force Don +Carlos to leave Spain, and to bring about a marriage between his son and +the young queen, which, combined with a modified constitution, might +pacify Spain; secondly, a party headed by Villa Real and Marco del Pont, +having for its object the establishment of Don Carlos on the throne, with +powers limited by a permanent Cortes; and thirdly, the bigoted Absolutist +party, headed by Cabrera and Teijeiro. + +In all these circumstances it was not surprising that the abandonment of +Orduña in May should have been followed, after a good deal of intrigue +and very little fighting, by the Convention of Vergara on the last day of +August. + +Don Carlos immediately fled to France, and was housed by the French +government at Bourges, where he continued to hold his court, and the war +in North-Western Spain was at an end. + +Cabrera, however, would have nothing to say to the Convention of Vergara, +and the spring of 1840 saw Espartero at the head of a powerful force +before the celebrated fortress of Morella, which surrendered in May. + +Cabrera was finally defeated by Espartero at Lerida in the following +July, and Spain at length enjoyed a desolate peace. + + + + +NOTE. + + +Before Mr. Burke had seen any part of this edition in print, he was +suddenly summoned to South America, as mentioned in his note (i. 190), +and accepted my suggestion that I should revise and correct the proofs. +His death shortly after leaving England has deprived me of a valued +friend, and the book of the advantage of his final revision. While fully +sensible of the disadvantages which this must involve, I hope that the +errors thus caused will not prove so grave or so numerous as seriously to +detract from the value of the edition. My best thanks are due to the +many friends who have helped me, especially in the preparation of the +Glossary, which has considerably outgrown the original draft. + + HERBERT W. GREENE. + +MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD, + _November_, 1895. + + + + +BORROW’S JOURNEYS IN THE PENINSULA. + + +1.—Nov. 1835. [Belem] (11th Nov.), Lisbon (12th), Cintra, [Colhares, +Mafra], Aldea Gallega (6th Dec.), [Pegões], Vendas Novas, Monte Moro, +Evora (9th–17th); returns to Lisbon (19th), where he remains about a +fortnight. + +Aldea Gallega, [Pegões], Vendas Novas, Monte Moro, Arroyolos, Estremoz, +Elvas, Badajoz (5th Jan. 1836), where he remains three weeks. Merida, +where he remains three days. Trujillo, Jaraicejo, [Mirabete], +Oropesa(?), Talavera, Madrid (about 5th Feb.). + +2.—Nov. 1836. Falmouth (7th Nov.), Finisterre (11th), Lisbon (13th), +Cadiz (starts on 24th), San Lucar, [Bonanza], Seville, where he remains +about a fortnight. Alcalá de Guadaira, Carmona, [Moncloa, Cuesta del +Espinal], Cordova (on third day from Seville), where he remains some +time. Andujar, Bailen, Carolina (on third day from Cordova), [Despeña +Perros], Aranjuez (25th Dec.), Madrid (26th). + +3.—May, 1837. Madrid (about 15th), Guadarrama, Peñaranda, Salamanca (on +third day from Madrid), where he remains till 10th June. [Pitiegua, +Pedroso], Medina del Campo, Valladolid, where he remains about ten days. +Dueñas, Palencia, [Cisneros], Sahagun or [Calzada], Leon (21st), where he +remains about ten days. Astorga, where he remains three days. Manzanal, +Bembibre, [Cacabelos], Villafranca, [Fuencebadon], Nogales, Lugo, where +he remains a week. [Castellanos], Betanzos, Corunna, where he remains +about a fortnight. Santiago (early in Aug.), where he remains about a +fortnight. Padron, Caldas de Reyes, Pontevedra, Vigo, where he remains a +few days. Padron, [Los Angeles], Noyo, Corcuvion, [Duyo], Finisterre, +Corcuvion, whence he returns to Santiago and Corunna. Ferrol, where he +remains about a week. [Novales], Santa Marta, [Coisa Doiro], Viveiro, +Foz, Rivadeo, Castro Pol, Navias, [Baralla], Luarca, Caneiro, [Soto +Luino, Muros], Veles (? Aviles), Gijon, Oviedo, where he remains about a +week. Villa Viciosa, Colunga, Ribida de Sella (= Riba de Sella), Llanes, +[Santo Colombo], San Vicente, Santillana, Santander, where he remains +some days. [Montaneda], Oñas, Burgos, Valladolid, Guadarrama, Madrid +(some time after 12th Sept.). Hence visits Toledo, and, in 1838, +[Leganez, Villa Seca, Vargas, Cobeja, Mocejon, Villaluenga, Yuncler], +{14a} Aranjuez, Ocaña, returning to Madrid. Hence visits La Granja (= +San Ildefonso). Segovia, [Abades], Labajos, Arevalo, Martin Muñoz, +[Villallos], returning to Madrid. + +4.—Dec. 1838. Cadiz (31st), Seville, where he remains about a fortnight. +Manzanares, Madrid. Hence visits [Cobeña] and other villages to the east +of Madrid. Victoriano (see ch. xlvi.) visits [Caramanchel], Alcalá de +Henares, [Fuente la Higuera], Guadalajara. Borrow visits Naval Carnero +(about the middle of March, 1830). Leaves Madrid for Seville (about the +middle of April). Leaves Seville (31st July) for Cadiz, thence by sea to +Gibraltar, whence, on 8th Aug., he sets sail for Tangier, landing next +day. + +NOTE.—Places enclosed in square brackets are not marked on the map. + + [Picture: Map of Spain with Borrow’s journeys marked] + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Man overboard—The Tagus—Foreign Languages—Gesticulation—Streets of +Lisbon—The Aqueduct—Bible tolerated in Portugal—Cintra—Don Sebastian—John +de Castro—Conversation with a Priest—Colhares—Mafra—Its Palace—The +Schoolmaster—The Portuguese—Their Ignorance of Scripture—Rural +Priesthood—The Alemtejo. + +On the morning of November 10, 1835, {1} I found myself off the coast of +Galicia, whose lofty mountains, gilded by the rising sun, presented a +magnificent appearance. I was bound for Lisbon; we passed Cape +Finisterre, and, standing farther out to sea, speedily lost sight of +land. On the morning of the 11th the sea was very rough, and a +remarkable circumstance occurred. I was on the forecastle, discoursing +with two of the sailors: one of them, who had but just left his hammock, +said, “I have had a strange dream, which I do not much like; for,” +continued he, pointing up to the mast, “I dreamt that I fell into the sea +from the cross-trees.” He was heard to say this by several of the crew +besides myself. A moment after the captain of the vessel, perceiving +that the squall was increasing, ordered the topsails to be taken in, +whereupon this man, with several others, instantly ran aloft; the yard +was in the act of being hauled down, when a sudden gust of wind whirled +it round with violence, and a man was struck down from the cross-trees +into the sea, which was working like yeast below. In a short time he +emerged; I saw his head on the crest of a billow, and instantly +recognized in the unfortunate man the sailor who, a few moments before, +had related his dream. I shall never forget the look of agony he cast +whilst the steamer hurried past him. The alarm was given, and everything +was in confusion; it was two minutes at least before the vessel was +stopped, by which time the man was a considerable way astern: I still, +however, kept my eye upon him, and could see that he was struggling +gallantly with the waves. A boat was at length lowered, but the rudder +was unfortunately not at hand, and only two oars could be procured, with +which the men could make but little progress in so rough a sea. They did +their best, however, and had arrived within ten yards of the man, who +still struggled for his life, when I lost sight of him; and the men, on +their return, said that they saw him below the water, at glimpses, +sinking deeper and deeper, his arms stretched out and his body apparently +stiff, but that they found it impossible to save him. Presently after, +the sea, as if satisfied with the prey which it had acquired, became +comparatively calm. The poor fellow who perished in this singular manner +was a fine young man of twenty-seven, the only son of a widowed mother; +he was the best sailor on board, and was beloved by all who were +acquainted with him. This event occurred on the 11th of November, 1835; +the vessel was the _London Merchant_ steamship. Truly wonderful are the +ways of Providence! + +That same night we entered the Tagus, and dropped anchor before the old +tower of Belem; {3a} early the next morning we weighed, and, proceeding +onward about a league, we again anchored at a short distance from the +_Caesodré_, {3b} or principal quay of Lisbon. Here we lay for some hours +beside the enormous black hulk of the _Rainha Nao_, a man-of-war which in +old times so captivated the eye of Nelson, that he would fain have +procured it for his native country. She was, long subsequently, the +admiral’s ship of the Miguelite squadron, and had been captured by the +gallant Napier {3c} about three years previous to the time of which I am +speaking. + +The _Rainha Nao_ is said to have caused him more trouble than all the +other vessels of the enemy; and some assert that, had the others defended +themselves with half the fury which the old vixen queen displayed, the +result of the battle which decided the fate of Portugal would have been +widely different. + +I found disembarkation at Lisbon to be a matter of considerable vexation; +the custom-house officers were exceedingly uncivil, and examined every +article of my little baggage with most provoking minuteness. + +My first impression on landing in the Peninsula was by no means a +favourable one; and I had scarcely pressed the soil one hour before I +heartily wished myself back in Russia, a country which I had quitted +about one month previous, and where I had left cherished friends and warm +affections. + +After having submitted to much ill usage and robbery at the custom-house, +I proceeded in quest of a lodging, and at last found one, but dirty and +expensive. The next day I hired a servant, a Portuguese, it being my +invariable custom, on arriving in a country, to avail myself of the +services of a native, chiefly with the view of perfecting myself in the +language; and, being already acquainted with most of the principal +languages and dialects of the east and the west, I am soon able to make +myself quite intelligible to the inhabitants. In about a fortnight I +found myself conversing in Portuguese with considerable fluency. + +Those who wish to make themselves understood by a foreigner in his own +language should speak with much noise and vociferation, opening their +mouths wide. Is it surprising that the English are, in general, the +worst linguists in the world, seeing that they pursue a system +diametrically opposite? For example, when they attempt to speak +Spanish—the most sonorous tongue in existence—they scarcely open their +lips, and, putting their hands in their pockets, fumble lazily, instead +of applying them to the indispensable office of gesticulation. Well may +the poor Spaniards exclaim, _These English talk so crabbedly_, _that +Satan himself would not be able to understand them_. + +Lisbon is a huge ruinous city, still exhibiting, in almost every +direction, the vestiges of that terrific visitation of God, the +earthquake, which shattered it some eighty years ago. It stands on seven +hills, the loftiest of which is occupied by the castle of Saint George, +which is the boldest and most prominent object to the eye, whilst +surveying the city from the Tagus. The most frequented and busy parts of +the city are those comprised within the valley to the north of this +elevation. + +Here you find the Plaza of the Inquisition, the principal square in +Lisbon, {5} from which run parallel, towards the river, three or four +streets, amongst which are those of the gold and silver, so designated +from being inhabited by smiths cunning in the working of those metals; +they are, upon the whole, very magnificent. The houses are huge, and as +high as castles. Immense pillars defend the causeway at intervals, +producing, however, rather a cumbrous effect. These streets are quite +level, and are well paved, in which respect they differ from all the +others in Lisbon. The most singular street, however, of all is that of +the _Alecrim_, or Rosemary, which debouches on the _Caesodré_. It is +very precipitous, and is occupied on either side by the palaces of the +principal Portuguese nobility, massive and frowning, but grand and +picturesque edifices, with here and there a hanging garden, overlooking +the street at a great height. + +With all its ruin and desolation, Lisbon is unquestionably the most +remarkable city in the Peninsula, and, perhaps, in the south of Europe. +It is not my intention to enter into minute details concerning it; I +shall content myself with remarking that it is quite as much deserving +the attention of the artist as even Rome itself. True it is that, though +it abounds with churches, it has no gigantic cathedral, like St. Peter’s, +to attract the eye and fill it with wonder, yet I boldly say that there +is no monument of man’s labour and skill, pertaining either to ancient or +modern Rome, for whatever purpose designed, which can rival the +water-works of Lisbon; I mean the stupendous aqueduct whose principal +arches cross the valley to the north-east of Lisbon, and which discharges +its little runnel of cool and delicious water into the rocky cistern +within that beautiful edifice called the Mother of the Waters, from +whence all Lisbon is supplied with the crystal lymph, though the source +is seven leagues distant. Let travellers devote one entire morning to +inspecting the _Arcos_ and the _Mai das agoas_, after which they may +repair to the English church and cemetery, Père-la-Chaise in miniature, +where, if they be of England, they may well be excused if they kiss the +cold tomb, as I did, of the author of “Amelia,” {6a} the most singular +genius which their island ever produced, whose works it has long been the +fashion to abuse in public and to read in secret. In the same cemetery +rest the mortal remains of Doddridge, another English author of a +different stamp, but justly admired and esteemed. {6b} I had not +intended, on disembarking, to remain long in Lisbon, nor indeed in +Portugal; my destination was Spain, whither I shortly proposed to direct +my steps, it being the intention of the Bible Society to attempt to +commence operations in that country, the object of which should be the +distribution of the word of God, for Spain had hitherto been a region +barred against the admission of the Bible; not so Portugal, where, since +the revolution, the Bible had been permitted both to be introduced and +circulated. Little, however, had been accomplished; therefore, finding +myself in the country, I determined, if possible, to effect something in +the way of distribution, but first of all to make myself acquainted as to +how far the people were disposed to receive the Bible, and whether the +state of education in general would permit them to turn it to much +account. I had plenty of Bibles and Testaments at my disposal, but could +the people read them, or would they? A friend of the Society to whom I +was recommended was absent from Lisbon at the period of my arrival; this +I regretted, as he could have afforded me several useful hints. In +order, however, that no time might be lost, I determined not to wait for +his arrival, but at once proceed to gather the best information I could +upon those points to which I have already alluded. I determined to +commence my researches at some slight distance from Lisbon, being well +aware of the erroneous ideas that I must form of the Portuguese in +general, should I judge of their character and opinions from what I saw +and heard in a city so much subjected to foreign intercourse. + +My first excursion was to Cintra. {7b} If there be any place in the +world entitled to the appellation of an enchanted region, it is surely +Cintra; Tivoli {8a} is a beautiful and picturesque place, but it quickly +fades from the mind of those who have seen the Portuguese Paradise. When +speaking of Cintra, it must not for a moment be supposed that nothing +more is meant than the little town or city; by Cintra must be understood +the entire region, town, palace, _quintas_, forests, crags, Moorish ruin, +which suddenly burst on the view on rounding the side of a bleak, savage, +and sterile-looking mountain. Nothing is more sullen and uninviting than +the south-western aspect of the stony wall which, on the side of Lisbon, +seems to shield Cintra from the eye of the world, but the other side is a +mingled scene of fairy beauty, artificial elegance, savage grandeur, +domes, turrets, enormous trees, flowers, and waterfalls, such as is met +with nowhere else beneath the sun. Oh! there are strange and wonderful +objects at Cintra, and strange and wonderful recollections attached to +them. The ruin on that lofty peak, and which covers part of the side of +that precipitous steep, was once the principal stronghold of the +Lusitanian Moors, and thither, long after they had disappeared, at a +particular moon of every year, were wont to repair wild _santons_ of +Maugrabie, to pray at the tomb of a famous _Sidi_, who slumbers amongst +the rocks. That grey palace witnessed the assemblage of the last Cortes +held by the boy-king Sebastian, {8b} ere he departed on his romantic +expedition against the Moors, who so well avenged their insulted faith +and country at Alcazar-quibir; {9a} and in that low shady _quinta_, +embowered amongst those tall _alcornoques_, once dwelt John de Castro, +{9b} the strange old viceroy of Goa, who pawned the hairs of his dead +son’s beard to raise money to repair the ruined wall of a fortress +threatened by the heathen of Ind; those crumbling stones which stand +before the portal, deeply graven, not with “runes,” but things equally +dark, Sanscrit rhymes from the Vedas, were brought by him from Goa, the +most brilliant scene of his glory, before Portugal had become a base +kingdom; and down that dingle, on an abrupt rocky promontory, stand the +ruined halls of the English millionaire, {9c} who there nursed the +wayward fancies of a mind as wild, rich, and variegated as the scenes +around. Yes, wonderful are the objects which meet the eye at Cintra, and +wonderful are the recollections attached to them. + +The town of Cintra contains about eight hundred inhabitants. The morning +subsequent to my arrival, as I was about to ascend the mountain for the +purpose of examining the Moorish ruins, I observed a person advancing +towards me whom I judged by his dress to be an ecclesiastic; he was in +fact one of the three priests of the place. I instantly accosted him, +and had no reason to regret doing so; I found him affable and +communicative. + +After praising the beauty of the surrounding scenery, I made some inquiry +as to the state of education amongst the people under his care. He +answered that he was sorry to say that they were in a state of great +ignorance, very few of the common people being able either to read or +write; that with respect to schools, there was but one in the place, +where four or five children were taught the alphabet, but that even this +was at present closed. He informed me, however, that there was a school +at Colhares, about a league distant. Amongst other things, he said that +nothing more surprised him than to see Englishmen, the most learned and +intelligent people in the world, visiting a place like Cintra, where +there was no literature, science, nor anything of utility (_coisa que +presta_). I suspect that there was some covert satire in the last speech +of the worthy priest; I was, however, Jesuit enough to appear to receive +it as a high compliment, and, taking off my hat, departed with an +infinity of bows. + +That same day I visited Colhares, a romantic village on the side of the +mountain of Cintra, to the northwest. Seeing some peasants collected +round a smithy, I inquired about the school, whereupon one of the men +instantly conducted me thither. I went upstairs into a small apartment, +where I found the master with about a dozen pupils standing in a row; I +saw but one stool in the room, and to that, after having embraced me, he +conducted me with great civility. After some discourse, he showed me the +books which he used for the instruction of the children; they were +spelling-books, much of the same kind as those used in the village +schools in England. Upon my asking him whether it was his practice to +place the Scriptures in the hands of the children, he informed me that +long before they had acquired sufficient intelligence to understand them +they were removed by their parents, in order that they might assist in +the labours of the field, and that the parents in general were by no +means solicitous that their children should learn anything, as they +considered the time occupied in learning as so much squandered away. He +said that, though the schools were nominally supported by the government, +it was rarely that the schoolmasters could obtain their salaries, on +which account many had of late resigned their employments. He told me +that he had a copy of the New Testament in his possession, which I +desired to see; but on examining it I discovered that it was only the +Epistles by Pereira, {11} with copious notes. I asked him whether he +considered that there was harm in reading the Scriptures without notes: +he replied that there was certainly no harm in it, but that simple +people, without the help of notes, could derive but little benefit from +Scripture, as the greatest part would be unintelligible to them; +whereupon I shook hands with him, and, on departing, said that there was +no part of Scripture so difficult to understand as those very notes which +were intended to elucidate it, and that it would never have been written +if not calculated of itself to illume the minds of all classes of +mankind. + +In a day or two I made an excursion to Mafra, distant about three leagues +from Cintra. The principal part of the way lay over steep hills, +somewhat dangerous for horses; however, I reached the place in safety. + +Mafra {12} is a large village in the neighbourhood of an immense +building, intended to serve as a convent and palace, and which is built +somewhat after the fashion of the Escurial. In this edifice exists the +finest library in Portugal, containing books on all sciences and in all +languages, and well suited to the size and grandeur of the edifice which +contains it. There were no monks, however, to take care of it, as in +former times; they had been driven forth, some to beg their bread, some +to serve under the banners of Don Carlos, in Spain, and many, as I was +informed, to prowl about as banditti. I found the place abandoned to two +or three menials, and exhibiting an aspect of solitude and desolation +truly appalling. Whilst I was viewing the cloisters, a fine +intelligent-looking lad came up and asked (I suppose in the hope of +obtaining a trifle) whether I would permit him to show me the village +church, which he informed me was well worth seeing; I said no, but added, +that if he would show me the village school I should feel much obliged to +him. He looked at me with astonishment, and assured me that there was +nothing to be seen at the school, which did not contain more than half a +dozen boys, and that he himself was one of the number. On my telling +him, however, that he should show me no other place, he at length +unwillingly attended me. On the way I learned from him that the +schoolmaster was one of the friars who had lately been expelled from the +convent, that he was a very learned man, and spoke French and Greek. We +passed a stone cross, and the boy bent his head and crossed himself with +much devotion. I mention this circumstance, as it was the first instance +of the kind which I had observed amongst the Portuguese since my arrival. +When near the house where the schoolmaster resided, he pointed it out to +me, and then hid himself behind a wall, where he awaited my return. + +On stepping over the threshold I was confronted by a short, stout man, +between sixty and seventy years of age, dressed in a blue jerkin and grey +trousers, without shirt or waistcoat. He looked at me sternly, and +inquired in the French language what was my pleasure. I apologized for +intruding upon him, and stated that, being informed he occupied the +situation of schoolmaster, I had come to pay my respects to him and to +beg permission to ask a few questions respecting the seminary. He +answered, that whoever told me he was a schoolmaster lied, for that he +was a friar of the convent, and nothing else. “It is not, then, true,” +said I, “that all the convents have been broken up and the monks +dismissed?” “Yes, yes,” said he with a sigh, “it is true; it is but too +true.” He then was silent for a minute, and, his better nature +overcoming his angry feelings, he produced a snuff-box and offered it to +me. The snuff-box is the olive-branch of the Portuguese, and he who +wishes to be on good terms with them must never refuse to dip his finger +and thumb into it when offered. I took, therefore, a huge pinch, though +I detest the dust, and we were soon on the best possible terms. He was +eager to obtain news, especially from Lisbon and Spain. I told him that +the officers of the troops at Lisbon had, the day before I left that +place, gone in a body to the queen, and insisted upon her either +receiving their swords or dismissing her Ministers; whereupon he rubbed +his hands, and said that he was sure matters would not remain tranquil at +Lisbon. On my saying, however, that I thought the affairs of Don Carlos +were on the decline (this was shortly after the death of Zumalacarregui), +{14b} he frowned, and cried that it could not possibly be, for that God +was too just to suffer it. I felt for the poor man who had been driven +out of his home in the noble convent close by, and from a state of +affluence and comfort reduced in his old age to indigence and misery, for +his present dwelling scarcely seemed to contain an article of furniture. +I tried twice or thrice to induce him to converse about the school, but +he either avoided the subject or said shortly that he knew nothing about +it. On my leaving him, the boy came from his hiding-place and rejoined +me; he said that he had hidden himself through fear of his master’s +knowing that he had brought me to him, for that he was unwilling that any +stranger should know that he was a schoolmaster. + +I asked the boy whether he or his parents were acquainted with the +Scripture, and ever read it; he did not, however, seem to understand me. +I must here observe that the boy was fifteen years of age, that he was in +many respects very intelligent, and had some knowledge of the Latin +language; nevertheless he knew not the Scripture even by name, and I have +no doubt, from what I subsequently observed, that at least two-thirds of +his countrymen are on that important point no wiser than himself. At the +doors of village inns, at the hearths of the rustics, in the fields where +they labour, at the stone fountains by the wayside where they water their +cattle, I have questioned the lower class of the children of Portugal +about the Scripture, the Bible, the Old and New Testament, and in no one +instance have they known what I was alluding to, or could return me a +rational answer, though on all other matters their replies were sensible +enough; indeed, nothing surprised me more than the free and unembarrassed +manner in which the Portuguese peasantry sustain a conversation, and the +purity of the language in which they express their thoughts, and yet few +of them can read or write; whereas the peasantry of England, whose +education is in general much superior, are in their conversation coarse +and dull almost to brutality, and absurdly ungrammatical in their +language, though the English tongue is upon the whole more simple in its +structure than the Portuguese. + +On my return to Lisbon I found our friend ---, who received me very +kindly. The next ten days were exceedingly rainy, which prevented me +from making any excursions into the country: during this time I saw our +friend frequently, and had long conversations with him concerning the +best means of distributing the Gospel. He thought we could do no better +for the present than put part of our stock into the hands of the +booksellers of Lisbon, and at the same time employ colporteurs to hawk +the books about the streets, receiving a certain profit on every copy +they sold. This plan was agreed upon, and forthwith put in practice, and +with some success. I had thoughts of sending colporteurs into the +neighbouring villages, but to this our friend objected. He thought the +attempt dangerous, as it was very possible that the rural priesthood, who +still possessed much influence in their own districts, and who were for +the most part decided enemies to the spread of the Gospel, might cause +the men employed to be assassinated or ill-treated. + +I determined, however, ere leaving Portugal, to establish depôts of +Bibles in one or two of the provincial towns. I wished to visit the +Alemtejo, which I had heard was a very benighted region. The Alemtejo +{16} means the province beyond the Tagus. This province is not beautiful +and picturesque, like most other parts of Portugal; there are few hills +and mountains. The greater part consists of heaths broken by knolls, and +gloomy dingles, and forests of stunted pine; these places are infested +with banditti. The principal city is Evora, one of the most ancient in +Portugal, and formerly the seat of a branch of the Inquisition yet more +cruel and baneful than the terrible one of Lisbon. Evora lies about +sixty miles from Lisbon, and to Evora I determined on going with twenty +Testaments and two Bibles. How I fared there will presently be seen. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Boatmen of the Tagus—Dangers of the Stream—Aldea Gallega—The +Hostelry—Robbers—Sabocha—Adventure of a Muleteer—Estalagem de Ladrões—Don +Geronimo—Vendas Novas—Royal Residence—Swine of the Alemtejo—Monte +Moro—Swayne Vonved—Singular Goatherd—Children of the Fields—Infidels and +Sadducees. + +On the afternoon of the 6th of December I set out for Evora, accompanied +by my servant. I had been informed that the tide would serve for the +regular passage-boats, or felouks, as they are called, at about four +o’clock; but on reaching the side of the Tagus opposite to Aldea Gallega, +between which place and Lisbon the boats ply, I found that the tide would +not permit them to start before eight o’clock. Had I waited for them I +should have probably landed at Aldea Gallega about midnight, and I felt +little inclination to make my _entrée_ in the Alemtejo at that hour; +therefore, as I saw small boats which can push off at any time lying near +in abundance, I determined upon hiring one of them for the passage, +though the expense would be thus considerably increased. I soon agreed +with a wild-looking lad, who told me that he was in part owner of one of +the boats, to take me over. I was not aware of the danger in crossing +the Tagus at its broadest part, which is opposite Aldea Gallega, at any +time, but especially at close of day in the winter season, or I should +certainly not have ventured. The lad and his comrade, a +miserable-looking object, whose only clothing, notwithstanding the +season, was a tattered jerkin and trousers, rowed until we had advanced +about half a mile from the land; they then set up a large sail, and the +lad, who seemed to direct everything, and to be the principal, took the +helm and steered. The evening was now setting in; the sun was not far +from its bourne in the horizon; the air was very cold, the wind was +rising, and the waves of the noble Tagus began to be crested with foam. +I told the boy that it was scarcely possible for the boat to carry so +much sail without upsetting, upon which he laughed, and began to gabble +in a most incoherent manner. He had the most harsh and rapid +articulation that has ever come under my observation in any human being; +it was the scream of the hyena blended with the bark of the terrier, +though it was by no means an index of his disposition, which I soon found +to be light, merry, and anything but malevolent; for when I, in order to +show him that I cared little about him, began to hum “_Eu que sou +contrabandista_,” {18} he laughed heartily, and said, clapping me on the +shoulder, that he would not drown us if he could help it. The other poor +fellow seemed by no means averse to go to the bottom: he sat at the fore +part of the boat, looking the image of famine, and only smiled when the +waters broke over the weather side and soaked his scanty habiliments. In +a little time I had made up my mind that our last hour was come; the wind +was getting higher, the short dangerous waves were more foamy, the boat +was frequently on its beam, and the water came over the lee side in +torrents. But still the wild lad at the helm held on, laughing and +chattering, and occasionally yelling out part of the Miguelite air, +“_Quando el Rey chegou_,” {19} the singing of which in Lisbon is +imprisonment. + +The stream was against us, but the wind was in our favour, and we sprang +along at a wonderful rate, and I saw that our only chance of escape was +in speedily passing the farther bank of the Tagus, where the bight or bay +at the extremity of which stands Aldea Gallega commences, for we should +not then have to battle with the waves of the stream, which the adverse +wind lashed into fury. It was the will of the Almighty to permit us +speedily to gain this shelter, but not before the boat was nearly filled +with water, and we were all wet to the skin. At about seven o’clock in +the evening we reached Aldea Gallega, shivering with cold and in a most +deplorable plight. + +Aldea Gallega, or the Galician Village (for the two words are Spanish, +and have that signification), is a place containing, I should think, +about four thousand inhabitants. It was pitchy dark when we landed, but +rockets soon began to fly about in all directions, illuming the air far +and wide. As we passed along the dirty unpaved street which leads to the +_largo_, or square, in which the inn is situated, a horrible uproar of +drums and voices assailed our ears. On inquiring the cause of all this +bustle, I was informed that it was the eve of the Conception of the +Virgin. + +As it was not the custom of the people at the inn to furnish provisions +for the guests, I wandered about in search of food; and at last, seeing +some soldiers eating and drinking in a species of wine-house, I went in +and asked the people to let me have some supper, and in a short time they +furnished me with a tolerable meal, for which, however, they charged +three crowns. + +Having engaged with a person for mules to carry us to Evora, which were +to be ready at five next morning, I soon retired to bed, my servant +sleeping in the same apartment, which was the only one in the house +vacant. I closed not my eyes during the whole night. Beneath us was a +stable, in which some _almocreves_, or carriers, slept with their mules; +at our back, in the yard, was a pigsty. How could I sleep? The hogs +grunted, the mules screamed, and the _almocreves_ snored most horribly. +I heard the village clock strike the hours until midnight, and from +midnight till four in the morning, when I sprang up and began to dress, +and despatched my servant to hasten the man with the mules, for I was +heartily tired of the place and wanted to leave it. An old man, bony and +hale, accompanied by a bare-footed lad, brought the beasts, which were +tolerably good. He was the proprietor of them, and intended, with the +lad, who was his nephew, to accompany us to Evora. + +When we started the moon was shining brightly, and the morning was +piercingly cold. We soon entered on a sandy hollow way, emerging from +which we passed by a strange-looking and large edifice, standing on a +high bleak sandhill on our left. We were speedily overtaken by five or +six men on horseback, riding at a rapid pace, each with a long gun slung +at his saddle, the muzzle depending about two feet below the horse’s +belly. I inquired of the old man what was the reason of this warlike +array. He answered, that the roads were very bad (meaning that they +abounded with robbers), and that they went armed in this manner for their +defence; they soon turned off to the right towards Palmella. + +We reached a sandy plain studded with stunted pine; the road was little +more than a footpath, and as we proceeded the trees thickened and became +a wood, which extended for two leagues, with clear spaces at intervals, +in which herds of cattle and sheep were feeding; the bells attached to +their necks were ringing lowly and monotonously. The sun was just +beginning to show itself; but the morning was misty and dreary, which, +together with the aspect of desolation which the country exhibited, had +an unfavourable effect on my spirits. I got down and walked, entering +into conversation with the old man. He seemed to have but one theme, +“the robbers,” and the atrocities they were in the habit of practising in +the very spots we were passing. The tales he told were truly horrible, +and to avoid them I mounted again, and rode on considerably in front. + +In about an hour and a half we emerged from the forest, and entered upon +a savage, wild, broken ground, covered with _mato_, or brushwood. The +mules stopped to drink at a shallow pool, and on looking to the right I +saw a ruined wall. This, the guide informed me, was the remains of +Vendas Velhas, or the Old Inn, formerly the haunt of the celebrated +robber Sabocha. This Sabocha, it seems, had, some sixteen years ago, a +band of about forty ruffians at his command, who infested these wilds, +and supported themselves by plunder. For a considerable time Sabocha +pursued his atrocious trade unsuspected, and many an unfortunate +traveller was murdered in the dead of night at the solitary inn by the +woodside which he kept; indeed, a more fit situation for plunder and +murder I never saw. The gang were in the habit of watering their horses +at the pool, and perhaps of washing therein their hands stained with the +blood of their victims. The lieutenant of the troop was the brother of +Sabocha, a fellow of great strength and ferocity, particularly famous for +the skill he possessed in darting a long knife, with which he was in the +habit of transfixing his opponents. Sabocha’s connexion with the gang at +length became known, and he fled, with the greater part of his +associates, across the Tagus to the northern provinces. Himself and his +brothers eventually lost their lives on the road to Coimbra, in an +engagement with the military. His house was razed by order of the +government. + +The ruins are still frequently visited by banditti, who eat and drink +amidst them, and look out for prey, as the place commands a view of the +road. The old man assured me, that about two months previous, on +returning to Aldea Gallega with his mules from accompanying some +travellers, he had been knocked down, stripped naked, and all his money +taken from him, by a fellow who he believed came from this murderers’ +nest. He said that he was an exceedingly powerful young man, with +immense moustaches and whiskers, and was armed with an _espingarda_, or +musket. About ten days subsequently he saw the robber at Vendas Novas, +where we should pass the night. The fellow on recognizing him took him +aside, and, with horrid imprecations, threatened that he should never be +permitted to return home if he attempted to discover him; he therefore +held his peace, as there was little to be gained and everything to be +risked in apprehending him, as he would have been speedily set at liberty +for want of evidence to criminate him, and then he would not have failed +to have had his revenge, or would have been anticipated therein by his +comrades. + +I dismounted and went up to the place, and saw the vestiges of a fire and +a broken bottle. The sons of plunder had been there very lately. I left +a New Testament and some tracts amongst the ruins, and hastened away. + +The sun had dispelled the mists and was beaming very hot. We rode on for +about an hour, when I heard the neighing of a horse in our rear, and our +guide said there was a party of horsemen behind; our mules were good, and +they did not overtake us for at least twenty minutes. The headmost rider +was a gentleman in a fashionable travelling dress; a little way behind +were an officer, two soldiers, and a boy in livery. I heard the +principal horseman, on overtaking my servant, inquiring who I was, and +whether French or English. He was told I was an English gentleman, +travelling. He then asked whether I understood Portuguese; the man said +I understood it, but he believed that I spoke French and Italian better. +The gentleman then spurred on his horse, and accosted me, not in +Portuguese, nor in French or Italian, but in the purest English that I +ever heard spoken by a foreigner; it had, indeed, nothing of foreign +accent or pronunciation in it; and had I not known, by the countenance of +the speaker, that he was no Englishman (for there is a peculiarity in the +countenance, as everybody knows, which, though it cannot be described, is +sure to betray the Englishman), I should have concluded that I was in +company with a countryman. We continued discoursing until we arrived at +Pegões. + +Pegões consists of about two or three houses and an inn; there is +likewise a species of barrack, where half a dozen soldiers are stationed. +In the whole of Portugal there is no place of worse reputation, and the +inn is nicknamed _Estalagem de Ladrões_, or the hostelry of thieves; for +it is there that the banditti of the wilderness, which extends around it +on every side for leagues, are in the habit of coming and spending the +money, the fruits of their criminal daring; there they dance and sing, +eat fricasseed rabbits and olives, and drink the muddy but strong wine of +the Alemtejo. An enormous fire, fed by the trunk of a cork-tree, was +blazing in a niche on the left hand on entering the spacious kitchen. +Close by it, seething, were several large jars, which emitted no +disagreeable odour, and reminded me that I had not broken my fast, +although it was now nearly one o’clock, and I had ridden five leagues. +Several wild-looking men, who, if they were not banditti, might easily be +mistaken for such, were seated on logs about the fire. I asked them some +unimportant questions, to which they replied with readiness and civility, +and one of them, who said he could read, accepted a tract which I offered +him. + +My new friend, who had been bespeaking dinner, or rather breakfast, now, +with great civility, invited me to partake of it, and at the same time +introduced me to the officer who accompanied him, and who was his +brother, and also spoke English, though not so well as himself. I found +I had become acquainted with Don {25a} Geronimo Jozé d’Azveto, secretary +to the government at Evora; his brother belonged to a regiment of +hussars, whose head-quarters were at Evora, but which had outlying +parties along the road,—for example, the place where we were stopping. + +[Picture: Roman military monument showing the rabbit as a Spanish device] +Rabbits at Pegões {25b} seem to be a standard article of food, being +produced in abundance on the moors around. We had one fried, the gravy +of which was delicious, and afterwards a roasted one, which was brought +up on a dish entire; the hostess, having first washed her hands, +proceeded to tear the animal to pieces, which having accomplished, she +poured over the fragments a sweet sauce. I ate heartily of both dishes, +particularly of the last; owing, perhaps, to the novel and curious manner +in which it was served up. Excellent figs, from the Algarves, and +apples, concluded our repast, which we ate in a little side room with a +mud floor, which sent such a piercing chill into my system, as prevented +me from deriving that pleasure from my fare and my agreeable companions +that I should have otherwise experienced. + +Don Geronimo had been educated in England, in which country he passed his +boyhood, which in a certain degree accounted for his proficiency in the +English language, the idiom and pronunciation of which can only be +acquired by residing in the country at that period of one’s life. He had +also fled thither shortly after the usurpation of the throne of Portugal +by Don Miguel, and from thence had departed to the Brazils, where he had +devoted himself to the service of Don Pedro, and had followed him in the +expedition which terminated in the downfall of the usurper, and the +establishment of the constitutional government in Portugal. Our +conversation rolled chiefly on literary and political subjects, and my +acquaintance with the writings of the most celebrated authors of Portugal +was hailed with surprise and delight; for nothing is more gratifying to a +Portuguese than to observe a foreigner taking an interest in the +literature of his nation, of which, in many respects, he is justly proud. + +At about two o’clock we were once more in the saddle, and pursued our way +in company, through a country exactly resembling that which we had +previously been traversing, rugged and broken, with here and there a +clump of pines. The afternoon was exceedingly fine, and the bright rays +of the sun relieved the desolation of the scene. Having advanced about +two leagues, we caught sight of a large edifice towering majestically in +the distance, which I learnt was a royal palace standing at the farther +extremity of Vendas Novas, the village in which we were to pass the +night; it was considerably more than a league from us, yet, seen through +the clear transparent atmosphere of Portugal, it appeared much nearer. + +Before reaching it we passed by a stone cross, on the pedestal of which +was an inscription commemorating a horrible murder of a native of Lisbon, +which had occurred on that spot; it looked ancient, and was covered with +moss, and the greater part of the inscription was illegible—at least it +was to me, who could not bestow much time on its deciphering. Having +arrived at Vendas Novas, and bespoken supper, my new friend and myself +strolled forth to view the palace. It was built by the late king of +Portugal, and presents little that is remarkable in its exterior; it is a +long edifice with wings, and is only two stories high, though it can be +seen afar off, from being situated on elevated ground; it has fifteen +windows in the upper, and twelve in the lower story, with a +paltry-looking door, something like that of a barn, to which you ascend +by one single step. The interior corresponds with the exterior, offering +nothing which can gratify curiosity, if we except the kitchens, which are +indeed magnificent, and so large that food enough might be cooked in +them, at one time, to serve as a repast for all the inhabitants of the +Alemtejo. + +I passed the night with great comfort in a clean bed, remote from all +those noises so rife in a Portuguese inn, and the next morning at six we +again set out on our journey, which we hoped to terminate before sunset, +as Evora is but ten leagues from Vendas Novas. The preceding morning had +been cold, but the present one was far colder—so much so, that just +before sunrise I could no longer support it on horseback, and therefore, +dismounting, ran and walked until we reached a few houses at the +termination of these desolate moors. It was in one of these houses that +the commissioners of Don Pedro and Miguel met, {28} and it was there +agreed that the latter should resign the crown in favour of Dona Maria, +for Evora was the last stronghold of the usurper, and the moors of the +Alemtejo the last area of the combats which so long agitated unhappy +Portugal. I therefore gazed on the miserable huts with considerable +interest, and did not fail to scatter in the neighbourhood several of the +precious little tracts with which, together with a small quantity of +Testaments, my carpet-bag was provided. + +The country began to improve; the savage heaths were left behind, and we +saw hills and dales, cork-trees, and _azinheiras_, on the last of which +trees grows that kind of sweet acorn called _bolotas_, which is pleasant +as a chestnut, and which supplies in winter the principal food on which +the numerous swine of the Alemtejo subsist. Gallant swine they are, with +short legs and portly bodies of a black or dark red colour; and for the +excellence of their flesh I can vouch, having frequently luxuriated upon +it in the course of my wanderings in this province; the _lombo_, or loin, +when broiled on the live embers, is delicious, especially when eaten with +olives. + +We were now in sight of Monte Moro, which, as the name denotes, was once +a fortress of the Moors. It is a high steep hill, on the summit and +sides of which are ruined walls and towers. At its western side is a +deep ravine or valley, through which a small stream rushes, traversed by +a stone bridge; farther down there is a ford, over which we passed and +ascended to the town, which, commencing near the northern base, passes +over the lower ridge towards the north-east. The town is exceedingly +picturesque, and many of the houses are very ancient, and built in the +Moorish fashion. I wished much to examine the relics of Moorish sway on +the upper part of the mountain, but time pressed, and the short period of +our stay at this place did not permit me to gratify my inclination. + +Monte Moro is the head of a range of hills which cross this part of the +Alemtejo, and from hence they fork east and south-east, towards the +former of which directions lies the direct road to Elvas, Badajoz, and +Madrid; and towards the latter that to Evora. A beautiful mountain, +covered to the top with cork-trees, is the third of the chain which +skirts the way in the direction of Elvas. It is called Monte Almo; a +brook brawls at its base, and as I passed it the sun was shining +gloriously on the green herbage, on which flocks of goats were feeding, +with their bells ringing merrily, so that the _tout ensemble_ resembled a +fairy scene; and that nothing might be wanted to complete the picture, I +here met a man, a goatherd, beneath an _azinheira_, whose appearance +recalled to my mind the Brute Carle, mentioned in the Danish ballad of +Swayne Vonved:—{29} + + “A wild swine on his shoulders he kept, + And upon his bosom a black bear slept; + And about his fingers, with hair o’erhung, + The squirrel sported, and weasel clung.” + +Upon the shoulder of the goatherd was a beast, which he told me was a +_lontra_, or otter, which he had lately caught in the neighbouring brook; +it had a string round its neck, which was attached to his arm. At his +left side was a bag, from the top of which peered the heads of two or +three singular-looking animals; and at his right was squatted the sullen +cub of a wolf, which he was endeavouring to tame. His whole appearance +was to the last degree savage and wild. After a little conversation, +such as those who meet on the road frequently hold, I asked him if he +could read, but he made me no answer. I then inquired if he knew +anything of God or Jesus Christ; he looked me fixedly in the face for a +moment, and then turned his countenance towards the sun, which was +beginning to sink in the west, nodded to it, and then again looked +fixedly upon me. I believe that I understood the mute reply, which +probably was, that it was God who made that glorious light which illumes +and gladdens all creation; and, gratified with that belief, I left him +and hastened after my companions, who were by this time a considerable +way in advance. + +I have always found in the disposition of the children of the fields a +more determined tendency to religion and piety than amongst the +inhabitants of towns and cities, and the reason is obvious—they are less +acquainted with the works of man’s hands than with those of God; their +occupations, too, which are simple, and requiring less of ingenuity and +skill than those which engage the attention of the other portion of their +fellow-creatures, are less favourable to the engendering of self-conceit +and self-sufficiency, so utterly at variance with that lowliness of +spirit which constitutes the best foundation of piety. The sneerers and +scoffers at religion do not spring from amongst the simple children of +nature, but are the excrescences of over-wrought refinement; and though +their baneful influence has indeed penetrated to the country and +corrupted man there, the source and fountain-head was amongst crowded +houses, where nature is scarcely known. I am not one of those who look +for perfection amongst the rural population of any country—perfection is +not to be found amongst the children of the fall, wherever their abodes +may happen to be; but, until the heart discredits the existence of a God, +there is still hope for the soul of the possessor, however stained with +crime he may be, for even Simon the magician was converted. But when the +heart is once steeled with infidelity, infidelity confirmed by carnal +wisdom, an exuberance of the grace of God is required to melt it, which +is seldom manifested; for we read in the blessed book that the Pharisee +and the wizard became receptacles of grace, but where is there mention +made of the conversion of the sneering Sadducee, and is the modern +infidel aught but a Sadducee of later date? + +It was dark night before we reached Evora, and having taken leave of my +friends, who kindly requested me to consider their house my home, I and +my servant went to the Largo de San Francisco, in which, the muleteer +informed me, was the best hostelry of the town. We rode into the +kitchen, at the extreme end of which was the stable, as is customary in +Portugal. The house was kept by an aged gypsy-like female and her +daughter, a fine blooming girl about eighteen years of age. The house +was large. In the upper story was a very long room, like a granary, +which extended nearly the whole length of the house; the farther part was +partitioned off, and formed a chamber tolerably comfortable, but very +cold; and the floor was of tiles, as was also that of the large room, in +which the muleteers were accustomed to sleep on the furniture of the +mules. After supper I went to bed, and, having offered up my devotions +to Him who had protected me through a dangerous journey, I slept soundly +till the morning. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Shopkeeper at Evora—Spanish Contrabandistas—Lion and Unicorn—The +Fountain—Trust in the Almighty—Distribution of Tracts—Library at +Evora—Manuscript—The Bible as a Guide—The Infamous Mary—The Man of +Palmella—The Charm—The Monkish System—Sunday—Volney—An Auto-da-Fé—Men +from Spain—Reading of a Tract—New Arrival—The Herb Rosemary. + +Evora is a small city, walled, but not regularly fortified, and could not +sustain a siege of a day. It has five gates; before that to the +south-west is the principal promenade of its inhabitants; the fair on St. +John’s Day is likewise held there; the houses are in general very +ancient, and many of them unoccupied. It contains about five thousand +inhabitants, though twice that number would be by no means +disproportionate to its size. The two principal edifices are the See, or +cathedral, {33a} and the convent of San Francisco, in the square before +the latter of which was situated the _posada_ where I had taken up my +abode. A large barrack for cavalry stands on the right-hand side on +entering the south-west gate. To the southeast, at the distance of six +leagues, is to be seen a blue chain of hills, the highest of which is +called Serra Dorso; {33b} it is picturesquely beautiful, and contains +within its recesses wolves and wild boars in numbers. About a league and +a half on the other side of this hill is Estremoz. + +I passed the day succeeding my arrival principally in examining the town +and its environs, and, as I strolled about, entered into conversation +with various people that I met. Several of these were of the middle +class, shopkeepers and professional men; they were all +Constitutionalists, or pretended to be so, but had very little to say +except a few commonplace remarks on the way of living of the friars, +their hypocrisy and laziness. I endeavoured to obtain some information +respecting the state of instruction in the place, and from their answers +was led to believe that it must be at the lowest ebb, for it seemed that +there was neither book-shop nor school. When I spoke of religion, they +exhibited the utmost apathy for the subject, and, making their bows, left +me as soon as possible. + +Having a letter of introduction to a person who kept a shop in the +market-place, I went thither and delivered it to him as he stood behind +his counter. In the course of conversation I found that he had been much +persecuted whilst the old system was in its vigour, and that he +entertained a hearty aversion for it. I told him that the ignorance of +the people in religious matters had served to nurse that system, and that +the surest way to prevent its return was to enlighten their minds. I +added that I had brought a small stock of Bibles and Testaments to Evora, +which I wished to leave for sale in the hands of some respectable +merchant, and that if he were anxious to help to lay the axe to the root +of superstition and tyranny, he could not do so more effectually than by +undertaking the charge of these books. He declared his willingness to do +so, and I went away determined to entrust to him half of my stock. I +returned to the hostelry, and sat down on a log of wood on the hearth +within the immense chimney in the common apartment; two surly-looking men +were on their knees on the stones. Before them was a large heap of +pieces of old iron, brass, and copper; they were assorting it, and +stowing it away in various bags. They were Spanish contrabandists of the +lowest class, and earned a miserable livelihood by smuggling such rubbish +from Portugal into Spain. Not a word proceeded from their lips, and when +I addressed them in their native language, they returned no other answer +than a kind of growl. They looked as dirty and rusty as the iron in +which they trafficked; their four miserable donkeys were in the stable in +the rear. + +The woman of the house and her daughter were exceedingly civil to me, and +coming near crouched down, asking various questions about England. A man +dressed somewhat like an English sailor, who sat on the other side of the +hearth confronting me, said, “I hate the English, for they are not +baptized, and have not the law,” meaning the law of God. I laughed, and +told him that according to the law of England, no one who was unbaptized +could be buried in consecrated ground; whereupon he said, “Then you are +stricter than we.” He then said, “What is meant by the lion and the +unicorn which I saw the other day on the coat-of-arms over the door of +the English consul at St. Ubes?” {35} I said they were the arms of +England! “Yes,” he replied, “but what do they represent?” I said I did +not know. “Then,” said he, “you do not know the secrets of your own +house.” I said, “Suppose I were to tell you that they represent the Lion +of Bethlehem and the horned monster of the flaming pit in combat, as to +which should obtain the mastery in England, what would you say?” He +replied, “I should say that you gave a fair answer.” This man and myself +became great friends. He came from Palmella, not far from St. Ubes; he +had several mules and horses with him, and dealt in corn and barley. I +again walked out and roamed in the environs of the town. + +About half a mile from the southern wall is a stone fountain, where the +muleteers and other people who visit the town are accustomed to water +their horses. I sat down by it, and there I remained about two hours, +entering into conversation with every one who halted at the fountain; and +I will here observe, that during the time of my sojourn at Evora, I +repeated my visit every day, and remained there the same time; and by +following this plan, I believe that I spoke to at least two hundred of +the children of Portugal upon matters relating to their eternal welfare. +I found that very few of those whom I addressed had received any species +of literary education, none of them had seen the Bible, and not more than +half a dozen had the slightest inkling of what the holy book consisted. +I found that most of them were bigoted Papists and Miguelites at heart. +I therefore, when they told me they were Christians, denied the +possibility of their being so, as they were ignorant of Christ and his +commandments, and placed their hope of salvation on outward forms and +superstitious observances, which were the invention of Satan, who wished +to keep them in darkness that at last they might stumble into the pit +which he had dug for them. I said repeatedly that the Pope, whom they +revered, was an arch deceiver, and the head minister of Satan here on +earth, and that the monks and friars, whose absence they so deplored, and +to whom they had been accustomed to confess themselves, were his +subordinate agents. When called upon for proofs, I invariably cited the +ignorance of my auditors respecting the Scriptures, and said that if +their spiritual guides had been really ministers of Christ, they would +not have permitted their flocks to remain unacquainted with his word. + +Since this occurred, I have been frequently surprised that I experienced +no insult and ill-treatment from the people, whose superstitions I was +thus attacking; but I really experienced none, and am inclined to believe +that the utter fearlessness which I displayed, trusting in the protection +of the Almighty, may have been the cause. When threatened by danger, the +best policy is to fix your eye steadily upon it, and it will in general +vanish like the morning mist before the sun; whereas, if you quail before +it, it is sure to become more imminent. I have fervent hope that the +words of my mouth sank deep into the hearts of some of my auditors, as I +observed many of them depart musing and pensive. I occasionally +distributed tracts amongst them; for although they themselves were unable +to turn them to much account, I thought that by their means they might +become of service at some future time, and fall into the hands of others, +to whom they might be of eternal interest. Many a book which is +abandoned to the waters is wafted to some remote shore, and there proves +a blessing and a comfort to millions, who are ignorant from whence it +came. + +The next day, which was Friday, I called at the house of my friend Don +Geronimo Azveto. I did not find him there, but was directed to the See, +or episcopal palace, in an apartment of which I found him, writing, with +another gentleman, to whom he introduced me; it was the governor of +Evora, who welcomed me with every mark of kindness and affability. After +some discourse, we went out together to examine an ancient edifice, which +was reported to have served, in bygone times, as a temple to Diana. Part +of it was evidently of Roman architecture, for there was no mistaking the +beautiful light pillars which supported a dome, under which the +sacrifices to the most captivating and poetical divinity of the heathen +theocracy had probably been made; but the original space between the +pillars had been filled up with rubbish of a modern date, and the rest of +the building was apparently of the architecture of the latter end of the +Middle Ages. It was situated at one end of the building which had once +been the seat of the Inquisition, and had served, before the erection of +the present See, as the residence of the bishop. + +Within the See, where the governor now resides, is a superb library, +occupying an immense vaulted room, like the aisle of a cathedral; and in +a side apartment is a collection of paintings by Portuguese artists, +chiefly portraits, amongst which is that of Don Sebastian. {38} I +sincerely hope it did not do him justice, for it represents him in the +shape of an awkward lad of about eighteen, with a bloated booby face with +staring eyes, and a ruff round a short apoplectic neck. + +I was shown several beautifully illuminated missals and other +manuscripts, but the one which most arrested my attention, I scarcely +need say why, was that which bore the following title:— + + “_Forma sive ordinatio Capelle illustrissimi et xianissimi principis + Henrici Sexti Regis Anglie et Francie am dm̃ Hibernie descripta + serenissiō principi Alfonso Regi Portugalie illustri per humilem + servitorem sm̃ Willm. Sav. Decanū capelle supradicte_.” {39} + +It seemed a voice from the olden times of my dear native land! This +library and picture-gallery had been formed by one of the latter bishops, +a person of much learning and piety. + +In the evening I dined with Don Geronimo and his brother; the latter soon +left us to attend to his military duties. My friend and myself had now +much conversation of considerable interest; he lamented the deplorable +state of ignorance in which his countrymen existed at present. He said +that his friend the governor and himself were endeavouring to establish a +school in the vicinity, and that they had made application to the +government for the use of an empty convent, called the _Espinheiro_, or +thorn-tree, at about a league’s distance, and that they had little doubt +of their request being complied with. I had before told him who I was; +and after expressing joy at the plan which he had in contemplation, I now +urged him in the most pressing manner to use all his influence to make +the knowledge of the Scripture the basis of the education which the +children were to receive, and added, that half the Bibles and Testaments +which I had brought with me to Evora were heartily at his service. He +instantly gave me his hand, said he accepted my offer with the greatest +pleasure, and would do all in his power to forward my views, which were +in many respects his own. I now told him that I did not come to Portugal +with the view of propagating the dogmas of any particular sect, but with +the hope of introducing the Bible, which is the well-head of all that is +useful and conducive to the happiness of society; that I cared not what +people called themselves, provided they followed the Bible as a guide, +for that where the Scriptures were read, neither priestcraft nor tyranny +could long exist; and instanced the case of my own country, the cause of +whose freedom and prosperity was the Bible, and that only, as the last +persecutor of this book, the bloody and infamous Mary, was the last +tyrant who had sat on the throne of England. We did not part till the +night was considerably advanced; and the next morning I sent him the +books, in the firm and confident hope that a bright and glorious morning +was about to rise over the night which had so long cast its dreary +shadows over the regions of the Alemtejo. + +The day after this interesting event, which was Saturday, I had more +conversation with the man from Palmella. I asked him if in his journeys +he had never been attacked by robbers; he answered no, for that he +generally travelled in company with others. “However,” said he, “were I +alone, I should have little fear, for I am well protected.” I said that +I supposed he carried arms with him. “No other arms than this,” said he, +pulling out one of those long desperate-looking knives, of English +manufacture, with which every Portuguese peasant is usually furnished. +This knife serves for many purposes, and I should consider it a far more +efficient weapon than a dagger. “But,” said he, “I do not place much +confidence in the knife.” I then inquired in what rested his hope of +protection. “In this,” said he; and, unbuttoning his waistcoat, he +showed me a small bag, attached to his neck by a silken string. “In this +bag is an _oraçam_, {41} or prayer, written by a person of power, and as +long as I carry it about with me, no ill can befall me.” Curiosity is +the leading feature of my character, and I instantly said, with +eagerness, that I should feel great pleasure in being permitted to read +the prayer. “Well,” he replied, “you are my friend, and I would do for +you what I would for few others; I will show it you.” He then asked for +my penknife, and, having unripped the bag, took out a large piece of +paper closely folded up. I hurried to my apartment and commenced the +examination of it. It was scrawled over in a very illegible hand, and +was moreover much stained with perspiration, so that I had considerable +difficulty in making myself master of its contents; but I at last +accomplished the following literal translation of the charm, which was +written in bad Portuguese, but which struck me at the time as being one +of the most remarkable compositions that had ever come to my knowledge. + + + +THE CHARM. + + + “Just Judge and divine Son of the Virgin Maria, who wast born in + Bethlehem, a Nazarene, and wast crucified in the midst of all Jewry, + I beseech thee, O Lord, by thy sixth day, that the body of me be not + caught, nor put to death by the hands of justice at all; peace be + with you, the peace of Christ, may I receive peace, may you receive + peace, said God to his disciples. If the accursed justice should + distrust me, or have its eyes on me, in order to take me or to rob + me, may its eyes not see me, may its mouth not speak to me, may it + have ears which may not hear me, may it have hands which may not + seize me, may it have feet which may not overtake me; for may I be + armed with the arms of St. George, covered with the cloak of Abraham, + and shipped in the ark of Noah, so that it can neither see me, nor + hear me, nor draw the blood from my body. I also adjure thee, O + Lord, by those three blessed crosses, by those three blessed + chalices, by those three blessed clergymen, by those three + consecrated hosts, that thou give me that sweet company which thou + gavest to the Virgin Maria, from the gates of Bethlehem to the + portals of Jerusalem, that I may go and come with pleasure and joy + with Jesus Christ, the Son of the Virgin Maria, the prolific yet + nevertheless the eternal virgin.” + +The woman of the house and her daughter had similar bags attached to +their necks, containing charms, which, they said, prevented the witches +having power to harm them. The belief in witchcraft is very prevalent +amongst the peasantry of the Alemtejo, and I believe of other provinces +of Portugal. This is one of the relics of the monkish system, the aim of +which, in all countries where it has existed, seems to have been to besot +the minds of the people, that they might be more easily misled. All +these charms were fabrications of the monks, who had sold them to their +infatuated confessants. The monks of the Greek and Syrian churches +likewise deal in this ware, which they know to be poison, but which they +would rather vend than the wholesome balm of the Gospel, because it +brings them a large price, and fosters the delusion which enables them to +live a life of luxury. + +The Sunday morning was fine, and the plain before the church of the +convent of San Francisco was crowded with people hastening to or +returning from the Mass. After having performed my morning devotion, and +breakfasted, I went down to the kitchen; the girl Geronima was seated by +the fire. I inquired if she had heard Mass? She replied in the +negative, and that she did not intend to hear it. Upon my inquiring her +motive for absenting herself, she replied, that since the friars had been +expelled from their churches and convents she had ceased to attend Mass, +or to confess herself; for that the government priests had no spiritual +power, and consequently she never troubled them. She said the friars +were holy men and charitable; for that every morning those of the convent +over the way fed forty poor persons with the relics of the meals of the +preceding day, but that now these people were allowed to starve. I +replied, that the friars, who lived on the fat of the land, could well +afford to bestow a few bones upon their poor, and that their doing so was +merely a part of their policy, by which they hoped to secure to +themselves friends in time of need. The girl then observed, that, as it +was Sunday, I should perhaps like to see some books, and without waiting +for a reply she produced them. They consisted principally of popular +stories, with lives and miracles of saints, but amongst them was a +translation of Volney’s _Ruins of Empires_. I expressed a wish to know +how she came possessed of this book. She said that a young man, a great +Constitutionalist, had given it to her some months previous, and had +pressed her much to read it, for that it was one of the best books in the +world. I replied, that the author of it was an emissary of Satan, and an +enemy of Jesus Christ and the souls of mankind; that it was written with +the sole aim of bringing all religion into contempt, and that it +inculcated the doctrine that there was no future state, nor reward for +the righteous, nor punishment for the wicked. She made no reply, but, +going into another room, returned with her apron full of dry sticks and +brushwood, all which she piled upon the fire, and produced a bright +blaze. She then took the book from my hand and placed it upon the +flaming pile; then, sitting down, took her rosary out of her pocket, and +told her beads till the volume was consumed. This was an _auto-da-fé_ +{44} in the best sense of the word. + +On the Monday and Tuesday I paid my usual visits to the fountain, and +likewise rode about the neighbourhood on a mule, for the purpose of +circulating tracts. I dropped a great many in the favourite walks of the +people of Evora, as I felt rather dubious of their accepting them had I +proffered them with my own hand, whereas, should they be observed lying +on the ground, I thought that curiosity might cause them to be picked up +and examined. I likewise, on the Tuesday evening, paid a farewell visit +to my friend Azveto, as it was my intention to leave Evora on the +Thursday following and return to Lisbon; in which view I had engaged a +calash of a man who informed me that he had served as a soldier in the +_grande armée_ of Napoleon, and been present in the Russian campaign. He +looked the very image of a drunkard. His face was covered with +carbuncles, and his breath impregnated with the fumes of strong waters. +He wished much to converse with me in French, in the speaking of which +language it seemed he prided himself; but I refused, and told him to +speak the language of the country, or I would hold no discourse with him. + +Wednesday was stormy, with occasional rain. On coming down, I found that +my friend from Palmella had departed; but several _contrabandistas_ had +arrived from Spain. They were mostly fine fellows, and, unlike the two I +had seen the preceding week, who were of much lower degree, were chatty +and communicative; they spoke their native language, and no other, and +seemed to hold the Portuguese in great contempt. The magnificent tones +of the Spanish sounded to great advantage amidst the shrill squeaking +dialect of Portugal. I was soon in deep conversation with them, and was +much pleased to find that all of them could read. I presented the +eldest, a man of about fifty years of age, with a tract in Spanish. He +examined it for some time with great attention; he then rose from his +seat, and, going into the middle of the apartment, began reading it +aloud, slowly and emphatically. His companions gathered around him, and +every now and then expressed their approbation of what they heard. The +reader occasionally called upon me to explain passages which, as they +referred to particular texts of Scripture, he did not exactly understand, +for not one of the party had ever seen either the Old or New Testament. + +He continued reading for upwards of an hour, until he had finished the +tract; and, at its conclusion, the whole party were clamorous for similar +ones, with which I was happy to be able to supply them. + +Most of these men spoke of priestcraft and the monkish system with the +utmost abhorrence, and said that they should prefer death to submitting +again to the yoke which had formerly galled their necks. I questioned +them very particularly respecting the opinion of their neighbours and +acquaintances on this point, and they assured me that in their part of +the Spanish frontier all were of the same mind, and that they cared as +little for the Pope and his monks as they did for Don Carlos; for the +latter was a dwarf, (_chicotito_), and a tyrant, and the others were +plunderers and robbers. I told them they must beware of confounding +religion with priestcraft, and that in their abhorrence of the latter +they must not forget that there is a God and a Christ to whom they must +look for salvation, and whose word it was incumbent upon them to study on +every occasion; whereupon they all expressed a devout belief in Christ +and the Virgin. + +These men, though in many respects more enlightened than the surrounding +peasantry, were in others as much in the dark; they believed in +witchcraft and in the efficacy of particular charms. The night was very +stormy, and at about nine we heard a galloping towards the door, and then +a loud knocking. It was opened, and in rushed a wild-looking man, +mounted on a donkey; he wore a ragged jacket of sheepskin, called in +Spanish _zamarra_, with breeches of the same as far down as his knees; +his legs were bare. Around his _sombrero_, or shadowy hat, was tied a +large quantity of the herb which in English is called rosemary, in +Spanish _romero_, and in the rustic language of Portugal _alecrim_, {47} +which last is a word of Scandinavian origin (_ellegren_), signifying the +elfin plant, and was probably carried into the south by the Vandals. The +man seemed frantic with terror, and said that the witches had been +pursuing him and hovering over his head for the last two leagues. He +came from the Spanish frontier with meal and other articles. He said +that his wife was following him, and would soon arrive, and in about a +quarter of an hour she made her appearance, dripping with rain, and also +mounted on a donkey. + +I asked my friends the _contrabandistas_ why he wore the rosemary in his +hat; whereupon they told me that it was good against witches and the +mischances on the road. I had no time to argue against this +superstition, for, as the chaise was to be ready at five the next +morning, I wished to make the most of the short time which I could devote +to sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Vexatious Delays—Drunken Driver—The Murdered Mule—The +Lamentation—Adventure on the Heath—Fear of Darkness—Portuguese +Fidalgo—The Escort—Return to Lisbon. + +I rose at four, and after having taken some refreshment, I descended and +found the strange man and his wife sleeping in the chimney corner by the +fire, which was still burning. They soon awoke, and began preparing +their breakfast, which consisted of salt _sardinhas_, broiled upon the +embers. In the mean time the woman sang snatches of the beautiful hymn, +very common in Spain, which commences thus:— + + “Once of old upon a mountain, shepherds overcome with sleep, + Near to Bethlehem’s holy tower, kept at dead of night their sheep; + Round about the trunk they nodded of a huge ignited oak, + Whence the crackling flame ascending bright and clear the darkness + broke.” + +On hearing that I was about to depart, she said, “You shall have some of +my husband’s rosemary, which will keep you from danger, and prevent any +misfortune occurring.” I was foolish enough to permit her to put some of +it in my hat; and, the man having by this time arrived with his mules, I +bade farewell to my friendly hostesses, and entered the chaise with my +servant. + +I remarked at the time that the mules which drew us were the finest I had +ever seen; the largest could be little short of sixteen hands high; and +the fellow told me in his bad French that he loved them better than his +wife and children. We turned round the corner of the convent, and +proceeded down the street which leads to the south-western gate. The +driver now stopped before the door of a large house, and, having +alighted, said that it was yet very early, and that he was afraid to +venture forth, as it was very probable we should be robbed, and himself +murdered, as the robbers who resided in the town would be apprehensive of +his discovering them, but that the family who lived in this house were +going to Lisbon, and would depart in about a quarter of an hour, when we +might avail ourselves of an escort of soldiers which they would take with +them, and in their company we should run no danger. I told him I had no +fear, and commanded him to drive on; but he said he would not, and left +us in the street. We waited an hour, when two carriages came to the door +of the house; but it seems the family were not yet ready, whereupon the +coachman likewise got down, and went away. At the expiration of about +half an hour the family came out, and when their luggage had been +arranged they called for the coachman, but he was nowhere to be found. +Search was made for him, but ineffectually, and an hour more was spent +before another driver could be procured; but the escort had not yet made +its appearance, and it was not before a servant had been twice despatched +to the barracks that it arrived. At last everything was ready, and they +drove off. + +All this time I had seen nothing of our own coachman, and I fully +expected that he had abandoned us altogether. In a few minutes I saw him +staggering up the street in a state of intoxication, attempting to sing +the _Marseillois_ hymn. {50} I said nothing to him, but sat observing +him. He stood for some time staring at the mules, and talking incoherent +nonsense in French. At last he said, “I am not so drunk but I can ride,” +and proceeded to lead his mules towards the gate. When out of the town +he made several ineffectual attempts to mount the smallest mule, which +bore the saddle; he at length succeeded, and instantly commenced spurring +at a furious rate down the road. We arrived at a place where a narrow +rocky path branched off, by taking which we should avoid a considerable +circuit round the city wall, which otherwise it would be necessary to +make before we could reach the road to Lisbon, which lay at the +north-east. He now said, “I shall take this path, for by so doing we +shall overtake the family in a minute;” so into the path we went. It was +scarcely wide enough to admit the carriage, and exceedingly steep and +broken. We proceeded, ascending and descending; the wheels cracked, and +the motion was so violent that we were in danger of being cast out as +from a sling. I saw that if we remained in the carriage it must be +broken in pieces, as our weight must ensure its destruction. I called to +him in Portuguese to stop, but he flogged and spurred the beasts the +more. My man now entreated me for God’s sake to speak to him in French, +for if anything would pacify him that would. I did so, and entreated him +to let us dismount and walk till we had cleared this dangerous way. The +result justified Antonio’s anticipation. He instantly stopped, and said, +“Sir, you are master; you have only to command, and I shall obey.” We +dismounted, and walked on till we reached the great road, when we once +more seated ourselves. + +The family were about a quarter of a mile in advance, and we were no +sooner reseated than he lashed the mules into full gallop, for the +purpose of overtaking it. His cloak had fallen from his shoulder, and, +in endeavouring to readjust it, he dropped the string from his hand by +which he guided the large mule: it became entangled in the legs of the +poor animal, which fell heavily on its neck; it struggled for a moment, +and then lay stretched across the way, the shafts over its body. I was +pitched forward into the dirt, and the drunken driver fell upon the +murdered mule. + +I was in a great rage, and cried, “You drunken renegade, who are ashamed +to speak the language of your own country, you have broken the staff of +your existence, and may now starve.” “_Paciencia_” said he, and began +kicking the head of the mule, in order to make it rise; but I pushed him +down, and taking his knife, which had fallen from his pocket, cut the +bands by which it was attached to the carriage, but life had fled, and +the film of death had begun to cover its eyes. + +The fellow, in the recklessness of intoxication, seemed at first disposed +to make light of his loss, saying, “The mule is dead; it was God’s will +that she should die; what more can be said? _Paciencia_.” Meanwhile, I +despatched Antonio to the town, for the purpose of hiring mules, and, +having taken my baggage from the chaise, waited on the road-side until he +should arrive. + +The fumes of the liquor began now to depart from the fellow’s brain; he +clasped his hands, and exclaimed, “Blessed Virgin, what is to become of +me? How am I to support myself? Where am I to get another mule? For my +mule—my best mule—is dead: she fell upon the road, and died of a sudden! +I have been in France, and in other countries, and have seen beasts of +all kinds, but such a mule as that I have never seen; but she is dead—my +mule is dead: she fell upon the road, and died of a sudden!” He +continued in this strain for a considerable time; and the burden of his +lamentation was always, “My mule is dead: she fell upon the road, and +died of a sudden.” At length he took the collar from the creature’s +neck, and put it upon the other, which, with some difficulty, he placed +in the shafts. + +A beautiful boy of about thirteen now came from the direction of the +town, running along the road with the velocity of a hare: he stopped +before the dead mule, and burst into tears. It was the man’s son, who +had heard of the accident from Antonio. This was too much for the poor +fellow; he ran up to the boy, and said, “Don’t cry. Our bread is gone, +but it is God’s will; the mule is dead!” He then flung himself on the +ground, uttering fearful cries. “I could have borne my loss,” said he, +“but when I saw my child cry, I became a fool.” I gave him two or three +crowns, and added some words of comfort; assuring him I had no doubt +that, if he abandoned drink, the Almighty God would take compassion on +him and repair his loss. At length he became more composed, and, placing +my baggage in the chaise, we returned to the town, where I found two +excellent riding mules awaiting my arrival at the inn. I did not see the +Spanish woman, or I should have told her of the little efficacy of +rosemary in this instance. + +I have known several drunkards amongst the Portuguese, but, without one +exception, they have been individuals who, having travelled abroad, like +this fellow, have returned with a contempt for their own country, and +polluted with the worst vices of the lands which they have visited. + +I would strongly advise any of my countrymen who may chance to read these +lines, that, if their fate lead them into Spain or Portugal, they avoid +hiring as domestics, or being connected with, individuals of the lower +classes who speak any other language than their own, as the probability +is that they are heartless thieves and drunkards. These gentry are +invariably saying all they can in dispraise of their native land; and it +is my opinion, grounded upon experience, that an individual who is +capable of such baseness would not hesitate at the perpetration of any +villany, for next to the love of God, the love of country is the best +preventive of crime. He who is proud of his country will be particularly +cautious not to do anything which is calculated to disgrace it. + +We now journeyed towards Lisbon, and reached Monte Moro about two +o’clock. After taking such refreshment as the place afforded, we pursued +our way till we were within a quarter of a league of the huts which stand +on the edge of the savage wilderness we had before crossed. Here we were +overtaken by a horseman; he was a powerful, middle-sized man, and was +mounted on a noble Spanish horse. He had a broad, slouching _sombrero_ +on his head, and wore a jerkin of blue cloth, with large bosses of silver +for buttons, and clasps of the same metal; he had breeches of yellow +leather, and immense jack-boots: at his saddle was slung a formidable +gun. He inquired if I intended to pass the night at Vendas Novas, and on +my replying in the affirmative, he said that he would avail himself of +our company. He now looked towards the sun, whose disk was rapidly +sinking beneath the horizon, and entreated us to spur on and make the +most of its light, for that the moor was a horrible place in the dusk. +He placed himself at our head, and we trotted briskly on, the boy, or +muleteer, who attended us running behind without exhibiting the slightest +symptom of fatigue. + +We entered upon the moor, and had advanced about a mile when dark night +fell around us. We were in a wild path, with high brushwood on either +side, when the rider said that he could not confront the darkness, and +begged me to ride on before, and he would follow after: I could hear him +trembling. I asked the reason of his terror, and he replied, that at one +time darkness was the same thing to him as day, but that of late years he +dreaded it, especially in wild places. I complied with his request, but +I was ignorant of the way, and, as I could scarcely see my hand, was +continually going wrong. This made the man impatient, and he again +placed himself at our head. We proceeded so for a considerable way, when +he again stopped, and said that the power of the darkness was too much +for him. His horse seemed to be infected with the same panic, for it +shook in every limb. I now told him to call on the name of the Lord +Jesus, who was able to turn the darkness into light; but he gave a +terrible shout, and, brandishing his gun aloft, discharged it in the air. +His horse sprang forward at full speed, and my mule, which was one of the +swiftest of its kind, took fright and followed at the heels of the +charger. Antonio and the boy were left behind. On we flew like a +whirlwind, the hoofs of the animals illuming the path with the sparks of +fire they struck from the stones. I knew not whither we were going, but +the dumb creatures were acquainted with the way, and soon brought us to +Vendas Novas, where we were rejoined by our companions. + +I thought this man was a coward, but I did him injustice, for during the +day he was as brave as a lion, and feared no one. About five years since +he had overcome two robbers who had attacked him on the moors, and, after +tying their hands behind them, had delivered them up to justice; but at +night the rustling of a leaf filled him with terror. I have known +similar instances of the kind in persons of otherwise extraordinary +resolution. For myself, I confess I am not a person of extraordinary +resolution, but the dangers of the night daunt me no more than those of +midday. The man in question was a farmer from Evora, and a person of +considerable wealth. + +I found the inn at Vendas Novas thronged with people, and had some +difficulty in obtaining accommodation and refreshment. It was occupied +by the family of a certain _fidalgo_ {55} from Estremoz; he was on the +way to Lisbon, conveying a large sum of money, as was said—probably the +rents of his estates. He had with him a body-guard of four and twenty of +his dependants, each armed with a rifle; they consisted of his shepherds, +swineherds, cowherds, and hunters, and were commanded by two youths, his +son and nephew, the latter of whom was in regimentals. Nevertheless, +notwithstanding the number of his troop, it appeared that the _fidalgo_ +laboured under considerable apprehension of being despoiled upon the +waste which lay between Vendas Novas and Pegões, as he had just requested +a guard of four soldiers from the officer who commanded a detachment +stationed here. There were many females in his company, who, I was told, +were his illegitimate daughters—for he bore an infamous moral character, +and was represented to me as a staunch friend of Don Miguel. It was not +long before he came up to me and my new acquaintance, as we sat by the +kitchen fire: he was a tall man of about sixty, but stooped much. His +countenance was by no means pleasing: he had a long hooked nose, small, +twinkling, cunning eyes, and, what I liked worst of all, a continual +sneering smile, which I firmly believe to be the index of a treacherous +and malignant heart. He addressed me in Spanish, which, as he resided +not far from the frontier, he spoke with fluency; but, contrary to my +usual practice, I was reserved and silent. + +On the following morning I rose at seven, and found that the party from +Estremoz had started several hours previously. I breakfasted with my +acquaintance of the preceding night, and we set out to accomplish what +remained of our journey. The sun had now arisen, and all his fears had +left him—he breathed defiance against all the robbers of the Alemtejo. +When we had advanced about a league, the boy who attended us said he saw +heads of men amongst the brushwood. Our cavalier instantly seized his +gun, and, causing his horse to make two or three lofty bounds, held it in +one hand, the muzzle pointed in the direction indicated; but the heads +did not again make their appearance, and it was probably but a false +alarm. + +We resumed our way, and the conversation turned, as might be expected, +upon robbers. My companion, who seemed to be acquainted with every inch +of ground over which we passed, had a legend to tell of every dingle and +every pine-clump. We reached a slight eminence, on the top of which grew +three stately pines: about half a league farther on was another similar +one. These two eminences commanded a view of the road from Pegões and +Vendas Novas, so that all people going and coming could be descried +whilst yet at a distance. My friend told me that these heights were +favourite stations of robbers. Some two years since, a band of six +mounted banditti remained there three days, and plundered whomsoever +approached from either quarter. Their horses, saddled and bridled, stood +picqueted at the foot of the trees, and two scouts, one for each +eminence, continually sat in the topmost branches, and gave notice of the +approach of travellers. When at a proper distance, the robbers below +sprung upon their horses, and putting them to full gallop, made at their +prey, shouting, “_Rendete_, _Picaro_! _Rendete_, _Picaro_!” {57} We, +however, passed unmolested, and, about a quarter of a mile before we +reached Pegões, overtook the family of the _fidalgo_. + +Had they been conveying the wealth of Ind through the deserts of Arabia, +they could not have travelled with more precaution. The nephew, with +drawn sabre, rode in front; pistols in his holsters, and the usual +Spanish gun slung at his saddle. Behind him tramped six men in a rank, +with muskets shouldered, and each of them wore at his girdle a hatchet, +which was probably intended to cleave the thieves to the brisket should +they venture to come to close quarters. There were six vehicles, two of +them calashes, in which latter rode the _fidalgo_ and his daughters; the +others were covered carts, and seemed to be filled with household +furniture. Each of these vehicles had an armed rustic on either side; +and the son, a lad about sixteen, brought up the rear with a squad equal +to that of his cousin in the van. The soldiers, who, by good fortune, +were light horse, and admirably mounted, were galloping about in all +directions, for the purpose of driving the enemy from cover, should they +happen to be lurking in the neighbourhood. + +I could not help thinking, as I passed by, that this martial array was +very injudicious, for though it was calculated to awe plunderers, it was +likewise calculated to allure them, as it seemed to hint that immense +wealth was passing through their territories. I do not know how the +soldiers and rustics would have behaved in case of an attack, but am +inclined to believe that if three such men as Richard Turpin had suddenly +galloped forth from behind one of the bush-covered knolls, neither the +numbers nor resistance opposed to them would have prevented them from +bearing away the contents of the strong box jingling in their +saddle-bags. + +From this moment nothing worthy of relating occurred till our arrival at +Aldea Gallega, where we passed the night, and next morning at three +o’clock embarked in the passage-boat for Lisbon, where we arrived at +eight: and thus terminates my first wandering in the Alemtejo. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +The College—The Rector—Shibboleth—National Prejudices—Youthful +Sports—Jews of Lisbon—Bad Faith—Crime and Superstition. + +One afternoon Antonio said to me, “It has struck me, _Senhor_, {59a} that +your worship would like to see the college of the English . . .” {59b} +“By all means,” I replied, “pray conduct me thither.” So he led me +through various streets until we stopped before the gate of a large +building, in one of the most elevated situations in Lisbon. Upon our +ringing, a kind of porter presently made his appearance, and demanded our +business. Antonio explained it to him. He hesitated for a moment; but, +presently bidding us enter, conducted us to a large gloomy-looking stone +hall, where, begging us to be seated, he left us. We were soon joined by +a venerable personage, seemingly about seventy, in a kind of flowing robe +or surplice, with a collegiate cap upon his head. Notwithstanding his +age there was a ruddy tinge upon his features, which were perfectly +English. Coming slowly up he addressed me in the English tongue, +requesting to know how he could serve me. I informed him that I was an +English traveller, and should be happy to be permitted to inspect the +college, provided it were customary to show it to strangers. He informed +me that there could be no objection to accede to my request, but that I +came at rather an unfortunate moment, it being the hour of refection. I +apologized, and was preparing to retire, but he begged me to remain, as +in a few minutes the refection would be over, when the principals of the +college would do themselves the pleasure of waiting on me. + +We sat down on the stone bench, when he commenced surveying me +attentively for some time, and then cast his eyes on Antonio. “Whom have +we here?” said he to the latter; “surely your features are not unknown to +me.” “Probably not, your reverence,” replied Antonio, getting up, and +bowing most profoundly. “I lived in the family of the Countess ---, at +Cintra, when your venerability was her spiritual guide.” “True, true,” +said the old gentleman, sighing, “I remember you now. Ah, Antonio, +things are strangely changed since then. A new government—a new system—a +new religion, I may say.” Then, looking again at me, he demanded whither +I was journeying. “I am going to Spain,” said I, “and have stopped at +Lisbon by the way.” “Spain, Spain!” said the old man. “Surely you have +chosen a strange time to visit Spain; there is much blood-shedding in +Spain at present, and violent wars and tumults.” “I consider the cause +of Don Carlos as already crushed,” I replied; “he has lost the only +general capable of leading his armies to Madrid. Zumalacarregui, his +Cid, has fallen.” “Do not flatter yourself; I beg your pardon, but do +not think, young man, that the Lord will permit the powers of darkness to +triumph so easily. The cause of Don Carlos is not lost: its success did +not depend on the life of a frail worm like him whom you have mentioned.” +We continued in discourse some little time, when he arose, saying that by +this time he believed the refection was concluded. + +He had scarcely left me five minutes when three individuals entered the +stone hall, and advanced slowly towards me. The principals of the +college, said I to myself; and so indeed they were. The first of these +gentlemen, and to whom the other two appeared to pay considerable +deference, was a thin, spare person, somewhat above the middle height; +his complexion was very pale, his features emaciated but fine, his eyes +dark and sparkling; he might be about fifty. The other two were men in +the prime of life. One was of rather low stature; his features were +dark, and wore that pinched and mortified expression so frequently to be +observed in the countenance of the English . . .: the other was a bluff, +ruddy, and rather good-looking young man. All three were dressed alike +in the usual college cap and silk gown. Coming up, the eldest of the +three took me by the hand, and thus addressed me in clear silvery tones:— + +“Welcome, sir, to our poor house. We are always happy to see in it a +countryman from our beloved native land; it will afford us extreme +satisfaction to show you over it; it is true that satisfaction is +considerably diminished by the reflection that it possesses nothing +worthy of the attention of a traveller; there is nothing curious +pertaining to it save, perhaps, its economy, and that, as we walk about, +we will explain to you. Permit us, first of all, to introduce ourselves +to you. I am rector of this poor English house of refuge; this gentleman +is our professor of humanity; and this” (pointing to the ruddy personage) +“is our professor of polite learning, Hebrew, and Syriac.” + +_Myself_.—I humbly salute you all. Excuse me if I inquire who was the +venerable gentleman who put himself to the inconvenience of staying with +me whilst I was awaiting your leisure. + +_Rector_.—Oh, a most admirable personage, our almoner, our chaplain; he +came into this country before any of us were born, and here he has +continued ever since. Now let us ascend that we may show you our poor +house. But how is this, my dear sir, how is it that I see you standing +uncovered in our cold, damp hall? + +_Myself_.—I can easily explain that to you; it is a custom which has +become quite natural to me. I am just arrived from Russia, where I have +spent some years. A Russian invariably takes off his hat whenever he +enters beneath a roof, whether it pertain to hut, shop, or palace. To +omit doing so would be considered as a mark of brutality and barbarism, +and for the following reason: in every apartment of a Russian house there +is a small picture of the Virgin stuck up in a corner, just below the +ceiling—the hat is taken off out of respect to her. + +Quick glances of intelligence were exchanged by the three gentlemen. I +had stumbled upon their shibboleth, and proclaimed myself an Ephraimite, +and not of Gilead. I have no doubt that up to that moment they had +considered me as one of themselves—a member, and perhaps a priest, of +their own ancient, grand, and imposing religion, for such it is, I must +confess—an error into which it was natural that they should fall. What +motives could a Protestant have for intruding upon their privacy? What +interest could he take in inspecting the economy of their establishment? +So far, however, from relaxing in their attention after this discovery, +their politeness visibly increased, though, perhaps, a scrutinizing +observer might have detected a shade of less cordiality in their manner. + +_Rector_.—Beneath the ceiling in every apartment? I think I understood +you so. How delightful—how truly interesting; a picture of the Blessed +Virgin beneath the ceiling in every apartment of a Russian house! Truly, +this intelligence is as unexpected as it is delightful. I shall from +this moment entertain a much higher opinion of the Russians than +hitherto—most truly an example worthy of imitation. I wish sincerely +that it was our own practice to place an image of the Blessed Virgin +beneath the ceiling in every corner of our houses. What say you, our +professor of humanity? What say you to the information so obligingly +communicated to us by this excellent gentleman? + +_Humanity Professor_.—It is indeed most delightful, most cheering, I may +say; but I confess that I was not altogether unprepared for it. The +adoration of the Blessed Virgin is becoming every day more extended in +countries where it has hitherto been unknown or forgotten. Dr. W---, +when he passed through Lisbon, gave me some most interesting details with +respect to the labours of the propaganda in India. Even England, our own +beloved country. . . . + +My obliging friends showed me all over their “poor house.” It certainly +did not appear a very rich one; it was spacious, but rather dilapidated. +The library was small, and possessed nothing remarkable; the view, +however, from the roof, over the greater part of Lisbon and the Tagus, +was very grand and noble. But I did not visit this place in the hope of +seeing busts, or books, or fine prospects,—I visited this strange old +house to converse with its inmates; for my favourite, I might say my +only, study is man. I found these gentlemen much what I had anticipated; +for this was not the first time that I had visited an English . . . +establishment in a foreign land. They were full of amiability and +courtesy to their heretic countryman, and though the advancement of their +religion was with them an object of paramount importance, I soon found +that, with ludicrous inconsistency, they cherished, to a wonderful +degree, national prejudices almost extinct in the mother land, even to +the disparagement of those of their own darling faith. I spoke of the +English . . ., of their high respectability, and of the loyalty which +they had uniformly displayed to their sovereign, though of a different +religion, and by whom they had been not unfrequently subjected to much +oppression and injustice. + +_Rector_.—My dear sir, I am rejoiced to hear you; I see that you are well +acquainted with the great body of those of our faith in England. They +are, as you have well described them, a most respectable and loyal body; +from loyalty, indeed, they never swerved, and though they have been +accused of plots and conspiracies, it is now well known that such had no +real existence, but were merely calumnies invented by their religious +enemies. During the civil wars the English . . . cheerfully shed their +blood and squandered their fortunes in the cause of the unfortunate +martyr, notwithstanding that he never favoured them, and invariably +looked upon them with suspicion. At present the English . . . are the +most devoted subjects of our gracious sovereign. I should be happy if I +could say as much for our Irish brethren; but their conduct has been—oh, +detestable! Yet what can you expect? The true . . . blush for them. A +certain person is a disgrace to the church of which he pretends to be the +servant. Where does he find in our canons sanction for his proceedings, +his undutiful expressions towards one who is his sovereign by divine +right, and who can do no wrong? And above all, where does he find +authority for inflaming the passions of a vile mob against a nation +intended by nature and by position to command them? + +_Myself_.—I believe there is an Irish college in this city? + +_Rector_.—I believe there is; but it does not flourish; there are few or +no pupils. Oh! + +I looked through a window, at a great height, and saw about twenty or +thirty fine lads sporting in a court below. “This is as it should be,” +said I; “those boys will not make worse priests from a little early +devotion to trap-ball and cudgel playing. I dislike a staid, serious, +puritanic education, as I firmly believe that it encourages vice and +hypocrisy.” + +We then went into the Rector’s room, where, above a crucifix, was hanging +a small portrait. + +_Myself_.—That was a great and portentous man, honest withal. I believe +the body of which he was the founder, and which has been so much decried, +has effected infinitely more good than it has caused harm. + +_Rector_.—What do I hear? You, an Englishman, and a Protestant, and yet +an admirer of Ignatius Loyola? + +_Myself_.—I will say nothing with respect to the doctrine of the Jesuits, +for, as you have observed, I am a Protestant; but I am ready to assert +that there are no people in the world better qualified, upon the whole, +to be entrusted with the education of youth. Their moral system and +discipline are truly admirable. Their pupils, in after-life, are seldom +vicious and licentious characters, and are in general men of learning, +science, and possessed of every elegant accomplishment. I execrate the +conduct of the liberals of Madrid in murdering last year the helpless +fathers, by whose care and instruction two of the finest minds of Spain +have been evolved—the two ornaments of the liberal cause and modern +literature of Spain, for such are Toreno and Martinez de la Rosa. {66} . +. . + +Gathered in small clusters about the pillars at the lower extremities of +the gold and silver streets in Lisbon, may be observed, about noon in +every day, certain strange-looking men whose appearance is neither +Portuguese nor European. Their dress generally consists of a red cap, +with a blue silken tassel at the top of it, a blue tunic girded at the +waist with a red sash, and wide linen pantaloons or trousers. He who +passes by these groups generally hears them conversing in broken Spanish +or Portuguese, and occasionally in a harsh guttural language, which the +oriental traveller knows to be the Arabic, or a dialect thereof. These +people are the Jews of Lisbon. {67a} Into the midst of one of these +groups I one day introduced myself, and pronounced a _beraka_, or +blessing. I have lived in different parts of the world, much amongst the +Hebrew race, and am well acquainted with their ways and phraseology. I +was rather anxious to become acquainted with the state of the Portuguese +Jews, and I had now an opportunity. “The man is a powerful rabbi,” said +a voice in Arabic; “it behoves us to treat him kindly.” They welcomed +me. I favoured their mistake, and in a few days I knew all that related +to them and their traffic in Lisbon. {67b} + +The Jews of Europe at the present time are divided into two +classes—synagogues, as some call them—the Portuguese and German. Of +these the most celebrated is the Portuguese. Jews of this class are +generally considered as more polished than the others, better educated, +and more deeply versed both in the language of Scripture and the +traditions of their forefathers. In London there is a stately edifice +which is termed the synagogue of the Portuguese Jews, where the rites of +the Hebrew religion are performed with all possible splendour and +magnificence. Knowing all this, one would naturally expect, on arriving +in Portugal, to find one’s self in the head-quarters of that Judaism with +which the mind has been accustomed to associate so much that is +respectable and imposing. It was, therefore, with feelings of +considerable surprise that I heard from the beings, whom I have attempted +to describe above, the following account of themselves:—“We are not of +Portugal,” said they; “we come from Barbary, some from Algier, some from +the Levant, but mostly from Barbary, yonder-away!” And they pointed to +the south-west. + +“And where are the Jews of Portugal,” I demanded: “the proper children of +the country?” + +“We know of none but ourselves,” replied the Barbaresques, “though we +have heard say that there are others: if so, they do not come near us, +and they do right, for we are an evil people, O thou _Tsadik_, and +thieves to a man. A ship comes every year from Swirah; {68} it brings a +cargo of thieves, for it brings Jews.” + +“And your wives and families,” said I, “where are they?” + +“In Swirah, or Salee, or other places from whence we come. We bring not +our wives with us, nor our families: many of us have escaped hither +barely with life, flying from the punishment due to our crimes. Some +live in sin with the daughters of the Nazarene: for we are an evil race, +O _Tsadik_, and do not observe the precepts of the law.” + +“And have you synagogues and teachers?” + +“Both, O thou righteous one, yet little can be said of either: our +_chenourain_ are vile places, and our teachers are like ourselves, bound +in the _galoot_ of sin. One of them keeps in his house a daughter of the +Nazarene; he is from Swirah, and what good ever came from that shore?” + +“You say your teachers are evil: do ye hearken unto their words?” + +“Of course we hearken unto them: how could we do else and live? Our +teachers are evil men, and live by fraud, like ourselves; yet still are +they masters, men to be dreaded and obeyed. Have they not witchcraft at +their command, and angels? Have they not words of power, and the _Shem +Hamphorash_? {69} Were we not to hearken to them, could they not consign +our souls to horror, to mist and vapour, to mire and clay? Even as thou +couldst, O righteous one!” + +Such was the extraordinary language in connexion with themselves which +they held to me, and which I have no reason to doubt, as it was +subsequently corroborated in more ways than one. How well do +superstition and crime go hand in hand! These wretched beings break the +eternal commandments of their Maker without scruple; but they will not +partake of the beast of the uncloven foot, and the fish which has no +scales. They pay slight regard to the denunciations of holy prophets +against the children of sin, but they quake at the sound of a dark +cabalistic word pronounced by one perhaps their equal or superior in +villany; as if, as has been well observed, God would delegate the +exercise of his power to the workers of iniquity. + +It is quite certain that at one period the Jews of Portugal were +deservedly celebrated for wealth, learning, and polished manners; the +Inquisition, however, played sad havoc with them. Those who escaped the +_auto da fé_, without becoming converts to Popish idolatry, took refuge +in foreign lands, particularly in England, where they still retain their +original designation. At present, notwithstanding all religions are +tolerated in Portugal, the genuine Jews of the country do not show +themselves; {70} in their stead are seen the rabble of Barbary, and these +only in the streets of Lisbon—outcasts who make no secret of their own +degradation. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Cold of Portugal—Extortion prevented—Sensation of Loneliness—The Dog—The +Convent—Enchanting Landscape—Moorish Fortresses—Prayer for the Sick. + +About a fortnight after my return from Evora, having made the necessary +preparations, I set out on my journey for Badajoz, from which town I +intended to take the diligence to Madrid. Badajoz lies about a hundred +miles distant from Lisbon, and is the principal frontier town of Spain in +the direction of the Alemtejo. To reach this place, it was necessary to +re-travel the road as far as Monte Moro, which I had already passed in my +excursion to Evora; I had therefore very little pleasure to anticipate +from novelty of scenery. Moreover, in this journey I should be a +solitary traveller, with no other companion than the muleteer, as it was +my intention to take my servant no farther than Aldea Gallega, for which +place I started at four in the afternoon. Warned by former experience, I +did not now embark in a small boat, but in one of the regular passage +felouks, in which we reached Aldea Gallega, after a voyage of six hours; +for the boat was heavy, there was no wind to propel it, and the crew were +obliged to ply their huge oars the whole way. In a word, this passage +was the reverse of the first—safe in every respect, but so sluggish and +tiresome, that I a hundred times wished myself again under the guidance +of the wild lad, galloping before the hurricane over the foaming billows. +From eight till ten the cold was truly terrible, and though I was closely +wrapped in an excellent fur _shoob_, with which I had braved the frosts +of Russian winters, I shivered in every limb, and was far more rejoiced +when I again set my foot on the Alemtejo, than when I landed for the +first time, after having escaped the horrors of the tempest. + +I took up my quarters for the night at a house to which my friend who +feared the darkness had introduced me on my return from Evora, and where, +though I paid mercilessly dear for everything, the accommodation was +superior to that of the common inn in the square. My first care now was +to inquire for mules to convey myself and baggage to Elvas, from whence +there are but three short leagues to the Spanish town of Badajoz. The +people of the house informed me that they had an excellent pair at my +disposal, but when I inquired the price, they were not ashamed to demand +four _moidores_. I offered them three, which was too much, but which, +however, they did not accept; for, knowing me to be an Englishman, they +thought they had an excellent opportunity to practise imposition, not +imagining that a person so rich as an Englishman _must_ be, would go out +in a cold night for the sake of obtaining a reasonable bargain. They +were, however, much mistaken, as I told them that rather than encourage +them in their knavery I should be content to return to Lisbon; whereupon +they dropped their demand to three and a half; but I made them no answer, +and, going out with Antonio, proceeded to the house of the old man who +had accompanied us to Evora. We knocked a considerable time, for he was +in bed; at length he arose and admitted us, but on hearing our object, he +said that his mules were again gone to Evora, under the charge of the +boy, for the purpose of transporting some articles of merchandize. He, +however, recommended us to a person in the neighbourhood who kept mules +for hire, and there Antonio engaged two fine beasts for two _moidores_ +and a half. I say _he_ engaged them, for I stood aloof and spoke not, +and the proprietor, who exhibited them, and who stood half dressed, with +a lamp in his hand, and shivering with cold, was not aware that they were +intended for a foreigner till the agreement was made, and he had received +a part of the sum in earnest. I returned to the inn well pleased, and +having taken some refreshment, went to rest, paying little attention to +the people, who glanced daggers at me from their small Jewish eyes. + +At five the next morning the mules were at the door. A lad of some +nineteen or twenty years of age attended them. He was short, but +exceedingly strong built, and possessed the largest head which I ever +beheld upon mortal shoulders; neck he had none, at least I could discern +nothing which could be entitled to that name. His features were +hideously ugly, and upon addressing him I discovered that he was an +idiot. Such was my intended companion in a journey of nearly a hundred +miles, which would occupy four days, and which lay over the most savage +and ill-noted track in the whole kingdom. I took leave of my servant +almost with tears, for he had always served me with the greatest +fidelity, and had exhibited an assiduity and a wish to please which +afforded me the utmost satisfaction. + +We started, my uncouth guide sitting tailor-fashion on the sumpter mule, +upon the baggage. The moon had just gone down, and the morning was +pitchy dark, and, as usual, piercingly cold. We soon entered the dismal +wood, which I had already traversed, and through which we wended our way +for some time, slowly and mournfully. Not a sound was to be heard save +the trampling of the animals, not a breath of air moved the leafless +branches, no animal stirred in the thickets, no bird, not even the owl, +flew over our heads, all seemed desolate and dead; and during my many and +far wanderings, I never experienced a greater sensation of loneliness, +and a greater desire for conversation and an exchange of ideas than then. +To speak to the idiot was useless, for though competent to show the road, +with which he was well acquainted, he had no other answer than an uncouth +laugh to any question put to him. Thus situated, like many other persons +when human comfort is not at hand, I turned my heart to God, and began to +commune with Him, the result of which was that my mind soon became +quieted and comforted. + +We passed on our way uninterrupted; no thieves showed themselves, nor +indeed did we see a single individual until we arrived at Pegões, and +from thence to Vendas Novas our fortune was the same. I was welcomed +with great kindness by the people of the hostelry of the latter place, +who were well acquainted with me on account of my having twice passed the +night under their roof. The name of the keeper of this inn is, or was, +Jozé Dias Azido, and, unlike the generality of those of the same +profession as himself in Portugal, he is an honest man; and a stranger +and foreigner who takes up his quarters at his inn may rest assured that +he will not be most unmercifully pillaged and cheated when the hour of +reckoning shall arrive, as he will not be charged a single _ré_ {75} more +than a native Portuguese on a similar occasion. I paid at this place +exactly one-half of the sum which was demanded from me at Arroyolos, +where I passed the ensuing night, and where the accommodation was in +every respect inferior. + +At twelve next day we arrived at Monte Moro, and, as I was not pressed +for time, I determined upon viewing the ruins which cover the top and +middle part of the stately hill which towers above the town. Having +ordered some refreshment at the inn where we dismounted, I ascended till +I arrived at a large wall or rampart, which, at a certain altitude, +embraces the whole hill. I crossed a rude bridge of stones, which +bestrides a small hollow or trench; and passing by a large tower, entered +through a portal into the enclosed part of the hill. On the left hand +stood a church, in good preservation, and still devoted to the purposes +of religion, but which I could not enter, as the door was locked, and I +saw no one at hand to open it. + +I soon found that my curiosity had led me to a most extraordinary place, +which quite beggars the scanty powers of description with which I am +gifted. I stumbled on amongst ruined walls, and at one time found I was +treading over vaults, as I suddenly started back from a yawning orifice +into which my next step, as I strolled musing along, would have +precipitated me. I proceeded for a considerable way by the eastern wall, +till I heard a tremendous bark, and presently an immense dog, such as +those which guard the flocks in the neighbourhood against the wolves, +came bounding to attack me “with eyes that glowed, and fangs that +grinned.” Had I retreated, or had recourse to any other mode of defence +than that which I invariably practise under such circumstances, he would +probably have worried me; but I stooped till my chin nearly touched my +knee, and looked him full in the eyes, and, as John Leyden says, in the +noblest ballad which the Land of Heather has produced:— + + “The hound he yowled, and back he fled, + As struck with fairy charm.” {76} + +It is a fact known to many people, and I believe it has been frequently +stated, that no large and fierce dog or animal of any kind, with the +exception of the bull, which shuts its eyes and rushes blindly forward, +will venture to attack an individual who confronts it with a firm and +motionless countenance. I say large and fierce, for it is much easier to +repel a bloodhound or bear of Finland in this manner than a dung-hill cur +or a terrier, against which a stick or a stone is a much more certain +defence. This will astonish no one who considers that the calm reproving +glance of reason, which allays the excesses of the mighty and courageous +in our own species, has seldom any other effect than to add to the +insolence of the feeble and foolish, who become placid as doves upon the +infliction of chastisements, which, if attempted to be applied to the +former, would only serve to render them more terrible, and, like +gunpowder cast on a flame, cause them, in mad desperation, to scatter +destruction around them. + +The barking of the dog brought out from a kind of alley an elderly man, +whom I supposed to be his master, and of whom I made some inquiries +respecting the place. The man was civil, and informed me that he served +as a soldier in the British army, under the “great lord,” during the +Peninsula war. He said that there was a convent of nuns a little farther +on, which he would show me, and thereupon led the way to the south-east +part of the wall, where stood a large dilapidated edifice. + +We entered a dark stone apartment, at one corner of which was a kind of +window occupied by a turning table, at which articles were received into +the convent or delivered out. He rang the bell, and, without saying a +word, retired, leaving me rather perplexed; but presently I heard, though +the speaker was invisible, a soft feminine voice demanding who I was, and +what I wanted. I replied, that I was an Englishman travelling into +Spain; and that, passing through Monte Moro, I had ascended the hill for +the purpose of seeing the ruins. The voice then said, “I suppose you are +a military man going to fight against the king, like the rest of your +countrymen?” “No,” said I, “I am not a military man, but a Christian; +and I go not to shed blood, but to endeavour to introduce the gospel of +Christ into a country where it is not known;” whereupon there was a +stifled titter. I then inquired if there were any copies of the Holy +Scriptures in the convent; but the friendly voice could give me no +information on that point, and I scarcely believe that its possessor +understood the purport of my question. It informed me, that the office +of lady abbess of the house was an annual one, and that every year there +was a fresh superior. On my inquiring whether the nuns did not +frequently find the time exceedingly heavy on their hands, it stated +that, when they had nothing better to do, they employed themselves in +making cheesecakes, which were disposed of in the neighbourhood. I +thanked the voice for its communications, and walked away. Whilst +proceeding under the wall of the house towards the south-west, I heard a +fresh and louder tittering above my head, and, looking up, saw three or +four windows crowded with dusky faces, and black waving hair; these +belonged to the nuns, anxious to obtain a view of the stranger. After +kissing my hand repeatedly, I moved on, and soon arrived at the +south-west end of this mountain of curiosities. There I found the +remains of a large building, which seemed to have been originally erected +in the shape of a cross. A tower at its eastern entrance was still +entire; the western side was quite in ruins, and stood on the verge of +the hill overlooking the valley, at the bottom of which ran the stream I +have spoken of on a former occasion. + +The day was intensely hot, notwithstanding the coldness of the preceding +nights; and the brilliant sun of Portugal now illumined a landscape of +entrancing beauty. Groves of cork-trees covered the farther side of the +valley and the distant acclivities, exhibiting here and there charming +vistas, where various flocks of cattle were feeding; the soft murmur of +the stream, which was at intervals chafed and broken by huge stones, +ascended to my ears and filled my mind with delicious feelings. I sat +down on the broken wall and remained gazing, and listening, and shedding +tears of rapture; for of all the pleasures which a bountiful God +permitteth his children to enjoy, none are so dear to some hearts as the +music of forests and streams, and the view of the beauties of his +glorious creation. An hour elapsed, and I still maintained my seat on +the wall; the past scenes of my life flitting before my eyes in airy and +fantastic array, through which every now and then peeped trees and hills, +and other patches of the real landscape which I was confronting. The sun +burnt my visage, but I heeded it not; and I believe that I should have +remained till night, buried in these reveries, which, I confess, only +serve to enervate the mind and steal many a minute which might be more +profitably employed, had not the report of the gun of a fowler in the +valley, which awakened the echoes of the woods, hills, and ruins, caused +me to start on my feet, and remember that I had to proceed three leagues +before I could reach the hostelry where I intended to pass the night. + +I bent my steps to the inn, passing along a kind of rampart. Shortly +before I reached the portal, which I have already mentioned, I observed a +kind of vault on my right hand, scooped out of the side of the hill; its +roof was supported by three pillars, though part of it had given way +towards the farther end, so that the light was admitted through a chasm +in the top. It might have been intended for a chapel, a dungeon, or a +cemetery, but I should rather think for the latter. One thing I am +certain of, that it was not the work of Moorish hands; and indeed +throughout my wandering in this place I saw nothing which reminded me of +that most singular people. The hill on which the ruins stand was +doubtless originally a strong fortress of the Moors, who, upon their +first irruption into the peninsula, seized and fortified most of the +lofty and naturally strong positions, but they had probably lost it at an +early period, so that the broken walls and edifices, which at present +cover the hill, are probably remains of the labours of the Christians +after the place had been rescued from the hands of the terrible enemies +of their faith. Monte Moro will perhaps recall Cintra to the mind of the +traveller, as it exhibits a distant resemblance to that place; +nevertheless, there is something in Cintra wild and savage, to which +Monte Moro has no pretension. Its scathed and gigantic crags are piled +upon each other in a manner which seems to menace headlong destruction to +whatever is in the neighbourhood; and the ruins which still cling to +those crags seem more like eagles’ nests than the remains of the +habitations even of Moors; whereas those of Monte Moro stand +comparatively at their ease on the broad back of a hill, which, though +stately and commanding, has no crags nor precipices, and which can be +ascended on every side without much difficulty. Yet I was much gratified +by my visit, and I shall wander far indeed before I forget the voice in +the dilapidated convent, the ruined walls amongst which I strayed, and +the rampart, where, sunk in dreamy rapture, I sat during a bright sunny +hour at Monte Moro. + +I returned to the inn, where I refreshed myself with tea and very sweet +and delicious cheesecakes, the handiwork of the nuns in the convent +above. Observing gloom and unhappiness on the countenances of the people +of the house, I inquired the reason of the hostess, who sat almost +motionless on the hearth by the fire; whereupon she informed me that her +husband was deadly sick with a disorder which, from her description, I +supposed to be a species of cholera; she added, that the surgeon who +attended him entertained no hopes of his recovery. I replied that it was +quite in the power of God to restore her husband in a few hours from the +verge of the grave to health and vigour, and that it was her duty to pray +to that Omnipotent Being with all fervency. I added, that if she did not +know how to pray upon such an occasion, I was ready to pray for her, +provided she would join in the spirit of the supplication. I then +offered up a short prayer in Portuguese, in which I entreated the Lord to +remove, if he thought proper, the burden of affliction under which the +family was labouring. + +The woman listened attentively, with her hands devoutly clasped, until +the prayer was finished, and then gazed at me seemingly with +astonishment, but uttered no word by which I could gather that she was +pleased or displeased with what I had said. I now bade the family +farewell, and having mounted my mule, set forward to Arroyolos. {81} + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +The Druid’s Stone—The Young Spaniard—Ruffianly Soldiers—Evils of +War—Estremoz—The Brawl—Ruined Watch-tower—Glimpse of Spain—Old Times and +New. + +After proceeding about a league and a half, a blast came booming from the +north, rolling before it immense clouds of dust; happily it did not blow +in our faces, or it would have been difficult to proceed, so great was +its violence. We had left the road in order to take advantage of one of +those short cuts, which, though passable for a horse or a mule, are far +too rough to permit any species of carriage to travel along them. We +were in the midst of sands, brushwood, and huge pieces of rock, which +thickly studded the ground. These are the stones which form the +_sierras_ of Spain and Portugal; those singular mountains which rise in +naked horridness, like the ribs of some mighty carcass from which the +flesh has been torn. Many of these stones, or rocks, grew out of the +earth, and many lay on its surface unattached, perhaps wrested from their +beds by the waters of the deluge. Whilst toiling along these wild +wastes, I observed, a little way to my left, a pile of stones of rather a +singular appearance, and rode up to it. It was a Druidical altar, and +the most perfect and beautiful one of the kind which I had ever seen. It +was circular, and consisted of stones immensely large and heavy at the +bottom, which towards the top became thinner and thinner, having been +fashioned by the hand of art to something of the shape of scollop shells. +These were surmounted by a very large flat stone, which slanted down +towards the south, where was a door. Three or four individuals might +have taken shelter within the interior, in which was growing a small +thorn-tree. + +I gazed with reverence and awe upon the pile where the first colonies of +Europe offered their worship to the unknown God. {83} The temples of the +mighty and skilful Roman, comparatively of modern date, have crumbled to +dust in its neighbourhood. The churches of the Arian Goth, his successor +in power, have sunk beneath the earth, and are not to be found; and the +mosques of the Moor, the conqueror of the Goth, where and what are they? +Upon the rock, masses of hoary and vanishing ruin. Not so the Druid’s +stone; there it stands on the hill of winds, as strong and as freshly new +as the day, perhaps thirty centuries back, when it was first raised, by +means which are a mystery. Earthquakes have heaved it, but its +cope-stone has not fallen; rain floods have deluged it, but failed to +sweep it from its station; the burning sun has flashed upon it, but +neither split nor crumbled it; and time, stern old time, has rubbed it +with his iron tooth, and with what effect let those who view it declare. +There it stands, and he who wishes to study the literature, the learning, +and the history of the ancient Celt and Cymbrian, may gaze on its broad +covering, and glean from that blank stone the whole known amount. The +Roman has left behind him his deathless writings, his history, and his +songs; the Goth his liturgy, his traditions, and the germs of noble +institutions; the Moor his chivalry, his discoveries in medicine, and the +foundations of modern commerce; and where is the memorial of the Druidic +races? Yonder: that pile of eternal stone! + +We arrived at Arroyolos about seven at night. I took possession of a +large two-bedded room, and, as I was preparing to sit down to supper, the +hostess came to inquire whether I had any objection to receive a young +Spaniard for the night. She said he had just arrived with a train of +muleteers, and that she had no other room in which she could lodge him. +I replied that I was willing, and in about half an hour he made his +appearance, having first supped with his companions. He was a very +gentlemanly, good-looking lad of seventeen. He addressed me in his +native language, and, finding that I understood him, he commenced talking +with astonishing volubility. In the space of five minutes he informed me +that, having a desire to see the world, he had run away from his friends, +who were people of opulence at Madrid, and that he did not intend to +return until he had travelled through various countries. I told him that +if what he said was true, he had done a very wicked and foolish action; +wicked, because he must have overwhelmed those with grief whom he was +bound to honour and love, and foolish, inasmuch as he was going to expose +himself to inconceivable miseries and hardships, which would shortly +cause him to rue the step he had taken; that he would be only welcome in +foreign countries so long as he had money to spend, and when he had none, +he would be repulsed as a vagabond, and would perhaps be allowed to +perish of hunger. He replied that he had a considerable sum of money +with him, no less than a hundred dollars, which would last him a long +time, and that when it was spent he should perhaps be able to obtain +more. “Your hundred dollars,” said I, “will scarcely last you three +months in the country in which you are, even if it be not stolen from +you; and you may as well hope to gather money on the tops of the +mountains as expect to procure more by honourable means.” But he had not +yet sufficiently drank of the cup of experience to attend much to what I +said, and I soon after changed the subject. About five next morning he +came to my bedside to take leave, as his muleteers were preparing to +depart. I gave him the usual Spanish valediction, _Vaya usted con Dios_, +{85} and saw no more of him. + +At nine, after having paid a most exorbitant sum for slight +accommodation, I started from Arroyolos, which is a town or large village +situated on very elevated ground, and discernible afar off. It can boast +of the remains of a large ancient and seemingly Moorish castle, which +stands on a hill on the left as you take the road to Estremoz. + +About a mile from Arroyolos I overtook a train of carts, escorted by a +number of Portuguese soldiers conveying stores and ammunition into Spain. +Six or seven of these soldiers marched a considerable way in front; they +were villanous-looking ruffians, upon whose livid and ghastly +countenances were written murder, and all the other crimes which the +Decalogue forbids. As I passed by, one of them, with a harsh, croaking +voice, commenced cursing all foreigners. “There,” said he, “is this +Frenchman riding on horseback” (I was on a mule), “with a man” (the +idiot) “to take care of him, and all because he is rich; whilst I, who am +a poor soldier, am obliged to tramp on foot. I could find it in my heart +to shoot him dead, for in what respect is he better than I? But he is a +foreigner, and the devil helps foreigners and hates the Portuguese.” He +continued shouting his remarks until I got about forty yards in advance, +when I commenced laughing; but it would have been more prudent in me to +have held my peace, for the next moment, with bang—bang, two bullets, +well aimed, came whizzing past my ears. A small river lay just before +me, though the bridge was a considerable way on my left. I spurred my +animal through it, closely followed by the terrified guide, and commenced +galloping along a sandy plain on the other side, and so escaped with my +life. + +These fellows, with the look of banditti, were in no respect better; and +the traveller who should meet them in a solitary place would have little +reason to bless his good fortune. One of the carriers (all of whom were +Spaniards from the neighbourhood of Badajoz, and had been despatched into +Portugal for the purpose of conveying the stores), whom I afterwards met +in the aforesaid town, informed me that the whole party were equally bad, +and that he and his companions had been plundered by them of various +articles, and threatened with death if they attempted to complain. How +frightful to figure to one’s self an army of such beings in a foreign +land, sent thither either to invade or defend; and yet Spain at the time +I am writing this is looking forward to armed assistance from Portugal! +May the Lord in his mercy grant that the soldiers who proceed to her +assistance may be of a different stamp: and yet, from the lax state of +discipline which exists in the Portuguese army, in comparison with that +of England and France, I am afraid that the inoffensive population of the +disturbed provinces will say that wolves have been summoned to chase away +foxes from the sheep-fold. Oh, may I live to see the day when soldiery +will no longer be tolerated in any civilized, or at least Christian +country! + +I pursued my route to Estremoz, passing by Monte Moro Novo, which is a +tall dusky hill, surmounted by an ancient edifice, probably Moorish. The +country was dreary and deserted, but offering here and there a valley +studded with cork-trees and _azinheiras_. After midday the wind, which +during the night and morning had much abated, again blew with such +violence as nearly to deprive me of my senses, though it was still in our +rear. + +I was heartily glad when, on ascending a rising ground, at about four +o’clock, I saw Estremoz on its hill at something less than a league’s +distance. Here the view became wildly interesting; the sun was sinking +in the midst of red and stormy clouds, and its rays were reflected on the +dun walls of the lofty town to which we were wending. Not far distant to +the south-west rose Serra Dorso, which I had seen from Evora, and which +is the most beautiful mountain in the Alemtejo. My idiot guide turned +his uncouth visage towards it, and, becoming suddenly inspired, opened +his mouth for the first time during the day, I might almost say since we +had left Aldea Gallega, and began to tell me what rare hunting was to be +obtained in that mountain. He likewise described with great minuteness a +wonderful dog, which was kept in the neighbourhood for the purpose of +catching the wolves and wild boars, and for which the proprietor had +refused twenty _moidores_. + +At length we reached Estremoz, and took up our quarters at the principal +inn, which looks upon a large plain or market-place occupying the centre +of the town, and which is so extensive that I should think ten thousand +soldiers at least might perform their evolutions there with ease. + +The cold was far too terrible to permit me to remain in the chamber to +which I had been conducted; I therefore went down to a kind of kitchen on +one side of the arched passage, which led under the house to the yard and +stables. A tremendous withering blast poured through this passage, like +the water through the flush of a mill. A large cork-tree was blazing in +the kitchen beneath a spacious chimney; and around it were gathered a +noisy crew of peasants and farmers from the neighbourhood, and three or +four Spanish smugglers from the frontier. I with difficulty obtained a +place amongst them, as a Portuguese or a Spaniard will seldom make way +for a stranger, till called upon or pushed aside, but prefers gazing upon +him with an expression which seems to say, “I know what you want, but I +prefer remaining where I am.” + +I now first began to observe an alteration in the language spoken; it had +become less sibilant, and more guttural; and, when addressing each other, +the speakers used the Spanish title of courtesy _usted_, or your +worthiness, instead of the Portuguese high-flowing _vossem se_, {89} or +your lordship. This is the result of constant communication with the +natives of Spain, who never condescend to speak Portuguese, even when in +Portugal, but persist in the use of their own beautiful language, which, +perhaps, at some future period, the Portuguese will generally adopt. +This would greatly facilitate the union of the two countries, hitherto +kept asunder by the natural waywardness of mankind. + +I had not been seated long before the blazing pile, when a fellow, +mounted on a fine spirited horse, dashed from the stables through the +passage into the kitchen, where he commenced displaying his horsemanship, +by causing the animal to wheel about with the velocity of a mill-stone, +to the great danger of everybody in the apartment. He then galloped out +upon the plain, and after half an hour’s absence returned, and having +placed his horse once more in the stable, came and seated himself next to +me, to whom he commenced talking in a gibberish of which I understood +very little, but which he intended for French. He was half intoxicated, +and soon became three parts so, by swallowing glass after glass of +_aguardiente_. Finding that I made him no answer, he directed his +discourse to one of the _contrabandistas_, to whom he talked in bad +Spanish. The latter either did not or would not understand him; but at +last, losing patience, called him a drunkard, and told him to hold his +tongue. The fellow, enraged at this contempt, flung the glass out of +which he was drinking at the Spaniard’s head, who sprang up like a tiger, +and unsheathing instantly a “snick and snee” knife, made an upward cut at +the fellow’s cheek, and would have infallibly laid it open, had I not +pulled his arm down just in time to prevent worse effects than a scratch +above the lower jaw-bone, which, however, drew blood. + +The smuggler’s companions interfered, and with much difficulty led him +off to a small apartment in the rear of the house, where they slept, and +kept the furniture of their mules. The drunkard then commenced singing, +or rather yelling, the _Marseillois_ hymn; and after having annoyed every +one for nearly an hour, was persuaded to mount his horse and depart, +accompanied by one of his neighbours. He was a pig merchant of the +vicinity, but had formerly been a trooper in the army of Napoleon, where, +I suppose, like the drunken coachman of Evora, he had picked up his +French and his habits of intoxication. {90} + +From Estremoz to Elvas the distance is six leagues. I started at nine +next morning; the first part of the way lay through an inclosed country, +but we soon emerged upon wild bleak downs, over which the wind, which +still pursued us, howled most mournfully. We met no one on the route; +and the scene was desolate in the extreme; the heaven was of a dark grey, +through which no glimpse of the sun was to be perceived. Before us, at a +great distance, on an elevated ground, rose a tower—the only object which +broke the monotony of the waste. In about two hours from the time when +we first discovered it, we reached a fountain, at the foot of the hill on +which it stood; the water, which gushed into a long stone trough, was +beautifully clear and transparent, and we stopped here to water the +animals. + +Having dismounted, I left the guide, and proceeded to ascend the hill on +which the tower stood. Though the ascent was very gentle, I did not +accomplish it without difficulty; the ground was covered with sharp +stones, which, in two or three instances, cut through my boots and +wounded my feet; and the distance was much greater than I had expected. +I at last arrived at the ruin, for such it was. I found it had been one +of those watch-towers or small fortresses called in Portuguese +_atalaias_; it was square, and surrounded by a wall, broken down in many +places. The tower itself had no door, the lower part being of solid +stonework; but on one side were crevices at intervals between the stones, +for the purpose of placing the feet, and up this rude staircase I climbed +to a small apartment, about five feet square, from which the top had +fallen. It commanded an extensive view from all sides, and had evidently +been built for the accommodation of those whose business it was to keep +watch on the frontier, and at the appearance of an enemy to alarm the +country by signals—probably by a fire. Resolute men might have defended +themselves in this little fastness against many assailants, who must have +been completely exposed to their arrows or musketry in the ascent. + +Being about to leave the place, I heard a strange cry behind a part of +the wall which I had not visited, and hastening thither, I found a +miserable object in rags, seated upon a stone. It was a maniac—a man +about thirty years of age, and I believe deaf and dumb; there he sat, +gibbering and mowing, and distorting his wild features into various +dreadful appearances. There wanted nothing but this object to render the +scene complete; banditti amongst such melancholy desolation would have +been by no means so much in keeping. But the maniac, on his stone, in +the rear of the wind-beaten ruin, overlooking the blasted heath, above +which scowled the leaden heaven, presented such a picture of gloom and +misery as I believe neither painter nor poet ever conceived in the +saddest of their musings. This is not the first instance in which it has +been my lot to verify the wisdom of the saying, that truth is sometimes +wilder than fiction. + +I remounted my mule, and proceeded till, on the top of another hill, my +guide suddenly exclaimed, “There is Elvas!” I looked in the direction in +which he pointed, and beheld a town perched on the top of a lofty hill. +On the other side of a deep valley towards the left rose another hill, +much higher, on the top of which is the celebrated fort of Elvas, +believed to be the strongest place in Portugal. Through the opening +between the fort and the town, but in the background and far in Spain, I +discerned the misty sides and cloudy head of a stately mountain, which I +afterwards learned was Albuquerque, one of the loftiest of Estremadura. + +We now got into a cultivated country, and following the road, which wound +amongst hedgerows, we arrived at a place where the ground began gradually +to shelve down. Here, on the right, was the commencement of an aqueduct, +by means of which the town on the opposite hill was supplied; it was at +this point scarcely two feet in altitude, but, as we descended, it became +higher and higher, and its proportions more colossal. + +Near the bottom of the valley it took a turn to the left, bestriding the +road with one of its arches. I looked up, after passing under it; the +water must have been flowing near a hundred feet above my head, and I was +filled with wonder at the immensity of the structure which conveyed it. +There was, however, one feature which was no slight drawback to its +pretensions to grandeur and magnificence: the water was supported not by +gigantic single arches, like those of the aqueduct of Lisbon, which stalk +over the valley like legs of Titans, but by three layers of arches, +which, like three distinct aqueducts, rise above each other. The expense +and labour necessary for the erection of such a structure must have been +enormous; and when we reflect with what comparative ease modern art would +confer the same advantage, we cannot help congratulating ourselves that +we live in times when it is not necessary to exhaust the wealth of a +province to supply a town on a hill with one of the first necessaries of +existence. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Elvas—Extraordinary Longevity—The English Nation—Portuguese +Ingratitude—Illiberality—Fortifications—Spanish Beggar—Badajoz—The +Custom-House. + +Arrived at the gate of Elvas, an officer came out of a kind of +guard-house, and, having asked me some questions, despatched a soldier +with me to the police-office, that my passport might be _visé_, as upon +the frontier they are much more particular with respect to passports than +in other parts. This matter having been settled, I entered an hostelry +near the same gate, which had been recommended to me by my host at Vendas +Novas, and which was kept by a person of the name of Jozé Rosado. It was +the best in the town, though, for convenience and accommodation, inferior +to a hedge alehouse in England. The cold still pursued me, and I was +glad to take refuge in an inner kitchen, which, when the door was not +open, was only lighted by a fire burning somewhat dimly on the hearth. +An elderly female sat beside it in her chair, telling her beads: there +was something singular and extraordinary in her look, as well as I could +discern by the imperfect light of the apartment. I put a few unimportant +questions to her, to which she replied, but seemed to be afflicted to a +slight degree with deafness. Her hair was becoming grey, and I said that +I believed she was older than myself, but that I was confident she had +less snow on her head. + +“How old may you be, cavalier?” said she, giving me that title which in +Spain is generally used when an extraordinary degree of respect is wished +to be exhibited. I answered that I was near thirty. “Then,” said she, +“you were right in supposing that I am older than yourself; I am older +than your mother, or your mother’s mother: it is more than a hundred +years since I was a girl, and sported with the daughters of the town on +the hillside.” “In that case,” said I, “you doubtless remember the +earthquake.” “Yes,” she replied, “if there is any occurrence in my life +that I remember, it is that: I was in the church of Elvas at the moment, +hearing the Mass of the king, and the priest fell on the ground, and let +fall the Host from his hands. I shall never forget how the earth shook; +it made us all sick; and the houses and walls reeled like drunkards. +Since that happened I have seen fourscore years pass by me, yet I was +older then than you are now.” + +I looked with wonder at this surprising female, and could scarcely +believe her words. I was, however, assured that she was in fact upwards +of a hundred and ten years of age, and was considered the oldest person +in Portugal. She still retained the use of her faculties in as full a +degree as the generality of people who have scarcely attained the half of +her age. She was related to the people of the house. + +As the night advanced, several persons entered for the purpose of +enjoying the comfort of the fire, and for the sake of conversation, for +the house was a kind of news-room, where the principal speaker was the +host, a man of some shrewdness and experience, who had served as a +soldier in the British army. Amongst others was the officer who +commanded at the gate. After a few observations, this gentleman, who was +a good-looking young man of five and twenty, began to burst forth in +violent declamation against the English nation and government, who, he +said, had at all times proved themselves selfish and deceitful, but that +their present conduct in respect to Spain was particularly infamous, for +though it was in their power to put an end to the war at once, by sending +a large army thither, they preferred sending a handful of troops, in +order that the war might be prolonged, for no other reason than that it +was of advantage to them. Having paid him an ironical compliment for his +politeness and urbanity, I asked whether he reckoned amongst the selfish +actions of the English government and nation, their having expended +hundreds of millions of pounds sterling, and an ocean of precious blood, +in fighting the battles of Spain and Portugal against Napoleon. +“Surely,” said I, “the fort of Elvas above our heads, and still more the +castle of Badajoz {96} over the water, speak volumes respecting English +selfishness, and must, every time you view them, confirm you in the +opinion which you have just expressed. And then, with respect to the +present combat in Spain, the gratitude which that country evinced to +England after the French, by means of English armies, had been +expelled,—gratitude evinced by discouraging the trade of England on all +occasions, and by offering up masses in thanksgiving when the English +heretics quitted the Spanish shores, ought now to induce England to +exhaust and ruin herself, for the sake of hunting Don Carlos out of his +mountains. In deference to your superior judgment,” continued I to the +officer, “I will endeavour to believe that it would be for the advantage +of England were the war prolonged for an indefinite period; nevertheless, +you would do me a particular favour by explaining by what process in +chemistry blood shed in Spain will find its way into the English treasury +in the shape of gold.” + +As he was not ready with his answer, I took up a plate of fruit which +stood on the table beside me, and said, “What do you call these fruits?” +“Pomegranates and _bolotas_,” he replied. “Right,” said I, “a homebred +Englishman could not have given me that answer; yet he is as much +acquainted with pomegranates and _bolotas_ as your lordship is with the +line of conduct which it is incumbent upon England to pursue in her +foreign and domestic policy.” + +This answer of mine, I confess, was not that of a Christian, and proved +to me how much of the leaven of the ancient man still pervaded me; yet I +must be permitted to add that I believe no other provocation would have +elicited from me a reply so full of angry feeling: but I could not +command myself when I heard my own glorious land traduced in this +unmerited manner. By whom? A Portuguese! A native of a country which +has been twice liberated from horrid and detestable thraldom by the hands +of Englishmen. But for Wellington and his heroes, Portugal would have +been French at this day; but for Napier and his marines, Miguel would now +be lording it in Lisbon. To return, however, to the officer: every one +laughed at him, and he presently went away. + +The next day I became acquainted with a respectable tradesman, of the +name of Almeida, a man of talent, though rather rough in his manners. He +expressed great abhorrence of the papal system, which had so long spread +a darkness, like that of death, over his unfortunate country; and I had +no sooner informed him that I had brought with me a certain quantity of +Testaments, which it was my intention to leave for sale at Elvas, than he +expressed a great desire to undertake the charge, and said that he would +do the utmost in his power to procure a sale for them amongst his +numerous customers. Upon showing him a copy, I remarked, “Your name is +upon the title-page;” the Portuguese version of the Holy Scriptures, {98} +circulated by the Bible Society, having been executed by a Protestant, of +the name of Almeida, and first published in the year 1712; whereupon he +smiled, and observed that he esteemed it an honour to be connected in +name at least with such a man. He scoffed at the idea of receiving any +remuneration, and assured me that the feeling of being permitted to +co-operate in so holy and useful a cause as the circulation of the +Scriptures was quite a sufficient reward. + +After having accomplished this matter, I proceeded to survey the environs +of the place, and strolled up the hill to the fort on the north side of +the town. The lower part of the hill is planted with _azinheiras_, which +give it a picturesque appearance, and at the bottom is a small brook, +which I crossed by means of stepping-stones. Arrived at the gate of the +fort, I was stopped by the sentry, who, however, civilly told me that if +I sent in my name to the commanding officer, he would make no objection +to my visiting the interior. I accordingly sent in my card by a soldier +who was lounging about, and, sitting down on a stone, waited his return. +He presently appeared, and inquired whether I was an Englishman; to which +having replied in the affirmative, he said, “In that case, sir, you +cannot enter; indeed, it is not the custom to permit any foreigners to +visit the fort.” I answered that it was perfectly indifferent to me +whether I visited it or not; and, having taken a survey of Badajoz from +the eastern side of the hill, descended by the way I came. + +This is one of the beneficial results of protecting a nation, and +squandering blood and treasure in its defence. The English, who have +never been at war with Portugal, who have fought for its independence on +land and sea, and always with success, who have forced themselves, by a +treaty of commerce, {99} to drink its coarse and filthy wines, which no +other nation cares to taste, are the most unpopular people who visit +Portugal. The French have ravaged the country with fire and sword, and +shed the blood of its sons like water; the French buy not its fruits, and +loathe its wines, yet there is no bad spirit in Portugal towards the +French. The reason of this is no mystery; it is the nature not of the +Portuguese only, but of corrupt and unregenerate man, to dislike his +benefactors, who, by conferring benefits upon him, mortify in the most +generous manner his miserable vanity. + +There is no country in which the English are so popular as in France; +{100} but, though the French have been frequently roughly handled by the +English, and have seen their capital occupied by an English army, they +have never been subjected to the supposed ignominy of receiving +assistance from them. + +The fortifications of Elvas are models of their kind, and, at the first +view, it would seem that the town, if well garrisoned, might bid defiance +to any hostile power; but it has its weak point: the western side is +commanded by a hill, at the distance of half a mile, from which an +experienced general would cannonade it, and probably with success. It is +the last town in this part of Portugal, the distance to the Spanish +frontier being barely two leagues. It was evidently built as a rival to +Badajoz, upon which it looks down from its height across a sandy plain +and over the sullen waters of the Guadiana; but, though a strong town, it +can scarcely be called a defence to the frontier, which is open on all +sides, so that there would not be the slightest necessity for an invading +army to approach within a dozen leagues of its walls, should it be +disposed to avoid them. Its fortifications are so extensive that ten +thousand men at least would be required to man them, who, in the event of +an invasion, might be far better employed in meeting the enemy in the +open field. The French, during their occupation of Portugal, kept a +small force in this place, who, at the approach of the British, retreated +to the fort, where they shortly after capitulated. + +Having nothing farther to detain me at Elvas, I proceeded to cross the +frontier into Spain. My idiot guide was on his way back to Aldea +Gallega; and, on the fifth of January, I mounted a sorry mule, without +bridle or stirrups, which I guided by a species of halter, and followed +by a lad who was to attend me on another, I spurred down the hill of +Elvas to the plain, eager to arrive in old chivalrous, romantic Spain. +But I soon found that I had no need to quicken the beast which bore me, +for, though covered with sores, wall-eyed, and with a kind of halt in its +gait, it cantered along like the wind. + +In little more than half an hour we arrived at a brook, whose waters ran +vigorously between steep banks. A man who was standing on the side +directed me to the ford in the squeaking dialect of Portugal; but whilst +I was yet splashing through the water, a voice from the other bank hailed +me, in the magnificent language of Spain, in this guise: “_O_! _Señor +Caballero_, _que me dé usted una limosna por amor de Dios_, _una +limosnita para que yo me compre un traguillo __de vino tinto_.” {102a} +In a moment I was on Spanish ground, as the brook, which is called Acaia, +is the boundary here of the two kingdoms, and, having flung the beggar a +small piece of silver, I cried in ecstasy, “_Santiago y cierra España_!” +{102b} and scoured on my way with more speed than before, paying, as Gil +Blas says, little heed to the torrent of blessings which the mendicant +poured forth in my rear: {102c} yet never was charity more unwisely +bestowed, for I was subsequently informed that the fellow was a confirmed +drunkard, who took his station every morning at the ford, where he +remained the whole day for the purpose of extorting money from the +passengers, which he regularly spent every night in the wine-shops of +Badajoz. To those who gave him money he returned blessings, and to those +who refused, curses; being equally skilled and fluent in the use of +either. + +Badajoz was now in view, at the distance of little more than half a +league. We soon took a turn to the left, towards a bridge of many arches +across the Guadiana, which, though so famed in song and ballad, is a very +unpicturesque stream, shallow and sluggish, though tolerably wide; its +banks were white with linen which the washerwomen had spread out to dry +in the sun, which was shining brightly; I heard their singing at a great +distance, and the theme seemed to be the praises of the river where they +were toiling, for as I approached I could distinguish “Guadiana, +Guadiana,” which reverberated far and wide, pronounced by the clear and +strong voices in chorus of many a dark-cheeked maid and matron. I +thought there was some analogy between their employment and my own: I was +about to tan my northern complexion by exposing myself to the hot sun of +Spain, in the humble hope of being able to cleanse some of the foul +stains of Popery from the minds of its children, with whom I had little +acquaintance; whilst they were bronzing themselves on the banks of the +river in order to make white the garments of strangers. The words of an +Eastern poet returned forcibly to my mind— + + “I’ll weary myself each night and each day, + To aid my unfortunate brothers; + As the laundress tans her own face in the ray, + To cleanse the garments of others.” + +Having crossed the bridge, {103a} we arrived at the northern gate, when +out rushed from a species of sentry-box a fellow wearing on his head a +high-peaked Andalusian hat, with his figure wrapped up in one of these +immense cloaks {103b} so well known to those who have travelled in Spain, +and which none but a Spaniard can wear in a becoming manner. Without +saying a word, he laid hold of the halter of the mule, and began to lead +it through the gate up a dirty street, crowded with long-cloaked people +like himself. I asked him what he meant, but he deigned not to return an +answer; the boy, however, who waited upon me, said that it was one of the +gate-keepers, and that he was conducting us to the custom-house or +_Alfandega_, where the baggage would be examined. Having arrived there, +the fellow, who still maintained a dogged silence, began to pull the +trunks off the sumpter-mule, and commenced uncording them. I was about +to give him a severe reproof for his brutality; but before I could open +my mouth a stout elderly personage appeared at the door, who I soon found +was the principal officer. He looked at me for a moment, and then asked +me, in the English language, if I was an Englishman. On my replying in +the affirmative, he demanded of the fellow how he dared to have the +insolence to touch the baggage without orders, and sternly bade him cord +up the trunks again and place them on the mule, which he performed +without uttering a word. The gentleman then asked what the trunks +contained: I answered clothes and linen; when he begged pardon for the +insolence of the subordinate, and informed me that I was at liberty to +proceed where I thought proper. I thanked him for his exceeding +politeness; and, under guidance of the boy, made the best of my way to +the Inn of the Three Nations, {104} to which I had been recommended at +Elvas. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +Badajoz—Antonio the Gypsy—Antonio’s Proposal—The Proposal accepted—Gypsy +Breakfast—Departure from Badajoz—The Gypsy Donkey—Merida—The Ruined +Wall—The Crone—The Land of the Moor—The Black Men—Life in the Desert—The +Supper. + +I was now at Badajoz in Spain, a country which for the next four years +was destined to be the scene of my labours: but I will not anticipate. +The neighbourhood of Badajoz did not prepossess me much in favour of the +country which I had just entered. It consists chiefly of brown moors, +which bear little but a species of brushwood, called in Spanish +_carrasco_; blue mountains are, however, seen towering up in the far +distance, which relieve the scene from the monotony which would otherwise +pervade it. + +It was at this town of Badajoz, the capital of Estremadura, that I first +fell in with those singular people, the _Zincali_, _Gitanos_, or Spanish +gypsies. It was here I met with the wild Paco, {105a} the man with the +withered arm, who wielded the _cachas_ {105b} with his left hand; his +shrewd wife, Antonia, skilled in _hokkano __baro_, or the great trick +{106a}; the fierce gypsy, Antonio Lopez, their father-in-law; and many +other almost equally singular individuals of the _Errate_, or gypsy +blood. It was here that I first preached the gospel to the gypsy people, +and commenced that translation of the New Testament in the Spanish gypsy +tongue, a portion of which I subsequently printed at Madrid. + +After a stay of three weeks at Badajoz, I prepared to depart for Madrid: +late one afternoon, as I was arranging my scanty baggage, the gypsy +Antonio entered my apartment, dressed in his _zamarra_ and high-peaked +Andalusian hat. + +_Antonio_.—Good evening, brother; they tell me that on the _callicaste_ +you intend to set out for _Madrilati_. + +_Myself_.—Such is my intention; I can stay here no longer. + +_Antonio_.—The way is far to _Madrilati_, there are, moreover, wars in +the land, and many _chories_ walk about; are you not afraid to journey? + +_Myself_.—I have no fears; every man must accomplish his destiny: what +befalls my body or soul was written in a _gabicote_ a thousand years +before the foundation of the world. + +_Antonio_.—I have no fears myself, brother; the dark night is the same to +me as the fair day, and the wild _carrascal_ as the market-place or the +_chardí_; I have got the _bar lachí_ in my bosom, the precious stone to +which sticks the needle. {106b} + +_Myself_.—You mean the loadstone, I suppose. Do you believe that a +lifeless stone can preserve you from the dangers which occasionally +threaten your life? + +_Antonio_.—Brother, I am fifty years old, and you see me standing before +you in life and strength; how could that be unless the _bar lachí_ had +power? I have been soldier and _contrabandista_, and I have likewise +slain and robbed the _Busné_. The bullets of the _Gabiné_ and of the +_jara canallis_ have hissed about my ears without injuring me, for I +carried the _bar lachí_. I have twenty times done that which by _Busné_ +law should have brought me to the _filimicha_, yet my neck has never yet +been squeezed by the cold _garrote_. Brother, I trust in the _bar +lachí_, like the _Caloré_ of old: were I in the midst of the gulph of +_Bombardó_ without a plank to float upon, I should feel no fear; for if I +carried the precious stone, it would bring me safe to shore. The _bar +lachí_ has power, brother. + +_Myself_.—I shall not dispute the matter with you, more especially as I +am about to depart from Badajoz: I must speedily bid you farewell, and we +shall see each other no more. + +_Antonio_.—Brother, do you know what brings me hither? + +_Myself_.—I cannot tell, unless it be to wish me a happy journey: I am +not gypsy enough to interpret the thoughts of other people. + +_Antonio_.—All last night I lay awake, thinking of the affairs of Egypt; +and when I arose in the morning I took the _bar lachí_ from my bosom, and +scraping it with a knife, swallowed some of the dust in _aguardiente_, as +I am in the habit of doing when I have made up my mind; and I said to +myself, I am wanted on the frontiers of _Castumba_ on a certain matter. +The strange _Caloró_ is about to proceed to _Madrilati_; the journey is +long, and he may fall into evil hands, peradventure into those of his own +blood; for let me tell you, brother, the _Calés_ are leaving their towns +and villages, and forming themselves into troops to plunder the _Busné_, +for there is now but little law in the land, and now or never is the time +for the _Caloré_ to become once more what they were in former times. So +I said, the strange _Caloró_ may fall into the hands of his own blood and +be ill-treated by them, which were shame: I will therefore go with him +through the _Chim del Manró_ as far as the frontiers of _Castumba_, and +upon the frontiers of _Castumba_ I will leave the London _Caloró_ to find +his own way to _Madrilati_, for there is less danger in _Castumba_ than +in the _Chim del Manró_, and I will then betake me to the affairs of +Egypt which call me from hence. + +_Myself_.—This is a very hopeful plan of yours, my friend; and in what +manner do you propose that we shall travel? + +_Antonio_.—I will tell you, brother. I have a _gras_ in the stall, even +the one which I purchased at Olivenças, as I told you on a former +occasion; {108} it is good and fleet, and cost me, who am a gypsy, fifty +_chulé_; upon that _gras_ you shall ride. As for myself, I will journey +upon the _macho_. + +_Myself_.—Before I answer you, I shall wish you to inform me what +business it is which renders your presence necessary in _Castumba_; your +son-in-law, Paco, told me that it was no longer the custom of the gypsies +to wander. + +_Antonio_.—It is an affair of Egypt, brother, and I shall not acquaint +you with it; peradventure it relates to a horse or an ass, or +peradventure it relates to a mule or a _macho_; it does not relate to +yourself, therefore I advise you not to inquire about it—_Dosta_. With +respect to my offer, you are free to decline it; there is a _drungruje_ +between here and _Madrilati_, and you can travel it in the _birdoche_, or +with the _dromális_; but I tell you, as a brother, that there are +_chories_ upon the _drun_, and some of them are of the _Errate_. + +Certainly few people in my situation would have accepted the offer of +this singular gypsy. It was not, however, without its allurements for +me; I was fond of adventure, and what more ready means of gratifying my +love of it than by putting myself under the hands of such a guide? There +are many who would have been afraid of treachery, but I had no fears on +this point, as I did not believe that the fellow harboured the slightest +ill intention towards me; I saw that he was fully convinced that I was +one of the _Errate_, and his affection for his own race, and his hatred +for the _Busné_, were his strongest characteristics. I wished, moreover, +to lay hold of every opportunity of making myself acquainted with the +ways of the Spanish gypsies, and an excellent one here presented itself +on my first entrance into Spain. In a word, I determined to accompany +the gypsy. “I will go with you,” I exclaimed; “as for my baggage, I will +despatch it to Madrid by the _birdoche_.” “Do so, brother,” he replied, +“and the _gras_ will go lighter. Baggage, indeed!—what need of baggage +have you? How the _Busné_ on the road would laugh if they saw two +_Calés_ with baggage behind them!” + +During my stay at Badajoz I had but little intercourse with the +Spaniards, my time being chiefly devoted to the gypsies, with whom, from +long intercourse with various sections of their race in different parts +of the world, I felt myself much more at home than with the silent, +reserved men of Spain, with whom a foreigner might mingle for half a +century without having half a dozen words addressed to him, unless he +himself made the first advances to intimacy, which, after all, might be +rejected with a shrug and a _no entiendo_; {110} for among the many +deeply-rooted prejudices of these people is the strange idea that no +foreigner can speak their language, an idea to which they will still +cling though they hear him conversing with perfect ease; for in that case +the utmost that they will concede to his attainments is, _Habla quatro +palabras y nada mas_ (he can speak four words, and no more). + +Early one morning, before sunrise, I found myself at the house of +Antonio; it was a small mean building, situated in a dirty street. The +morning was quite dark; the street, however, was partially illumined by a +heap of lighted straw, round which two or three men were busily engaged, +apparently holding an object over the flames. Presently the gypsy’s door +opened, and Antonio made his appearance; and, casting his eye in the +direction of the light, exclaimed, “The swine have killed their brother; +would that every _Busnó_ was served as yonder hog is. Come in, brother, +and we will eat the heart of that hog.” I scarcely understood his words, +but following him, he led me into a low room, in which was a _brasero_, +or small pan full of lighted charcoal; beside it was a rude table, spread +with a coarse linen cloth, upon which was bread and a large pipkin full +of a mess which emitted no disagreeable savour. “The heart of the +_balichó_ is in that _puchera_,” said Antonio; “eat, brother.” We both +sat down and ate—Antonio voraciously. When we had concluded he +arose:—“Have you got your _li_?” he demanded. “Here it is,” said I, +showing him my passport. “Good,” said he; “you may want it. I want +none; my passport is the _bar lachí_. Now for a glass of _repañi_, and +then for the road.” + +We left the room, the door of which he locked, hiding the key beneath a +loose brick in a corner of the passage. “Go into the street, brother, +whilst I fetch the _caballerias_ from the stable.” I obeyed him. The +sun had not yet risen, and the air was piercingly cold; the grey light, +however, of dawn enabled me to distinguish objects with tolerable +accuracy; I soon heard the clattering of the animals’ feet, and Antonio +presently stepped forth, leading the horse by the bridle; the _macho_ +followed behind. I looked at the horse, and shrugged my shoulders. As +far as I could scan it, it appeared the most uncouth animal I had ever +beheld. It was of a spectral white, short in the body, but with +remarkably long legs. I observed that it was particularly high in the +_cruz_, or withers. “You are looking at the _grasti_,” said Antonio; “it +is eighteen years old, but it is the very best in the _Chim del Manró_; I +have long had my eye upon it; I bought it for my own use for the affairs +of Egypt. Mount, brother, mount, and let us leave the _foros_—the gate +is about being opened.” + +He locked the door, and deposited the key in his _faja_. In less than a +quarter of an hour we had left the town behind us. “This does not appear +to be a very good horse,” said I to Antonio, as we proceeded over the +plain; “it is with difficulty that I can make him move.” + +“He is the swiftest horse in the _Chim del Manró_, brother,” said +Antonio; “at the gallop, and at the speedy trot, there is no one to match +him. But he is eighteen years old, and his joints are stiff, especially +of a morning; but let him once become heated, and the _genio del viejo_ +{112} comes upon him, and there is no holding him in with bit or bridle. +I bought that horse for the affairs of Egypt, brother.” + +About noon we arrived at a small village in the neighbourhood of a high +lumpy hill. “There is no _Caló_ house in this place,” said Antonio; “we +will therefore go to the posada of the _Busné_ and refresh ourselves, man +and beast.” We entered the kitchen, and sat down at the board, calling +for wine and bread. There were two ill-looking fellows in the kitchen, +smoking cigars. I said something to Antonio in the _Caló_ language. + +“What is that I hear?” said one of the fellows, who was distinguished by +an immense pair of moustaches. “What is that I hear? Is it in _Caló_ +that you are speaking before me, and I a _chalan_ and national? Accursed +gypsy, how dare you enter this posada and speak before me in that speech? +Is it not forbidden by the law of the land in which we are, even as it is +forbidden for a gypsy to enter the _mercado_? I tell you what, friend, +if I hear another word of _Caló_ come from your mouth, I will cudgel your +bones and send you flying over the house-tops with a kick of my foot.” + +“You would do right,” said his companion; “the insolence of these gypsies +is no longer to be borne. When I am at Merida or Badajoz I go to the +_mercado_, and there in a corner stand the accursed gypsies, jabbering to +each other in a speech which I understand not. ‘Gypsy gentleman,’ say I +to one of them, ‘what will you have for that donkey?’ ‘I will have ten +dollars for it, _Caballero nacional_,’ says the gypsy; ‘it is the best +donkey in all Spain.’ ‘I should like to see its paces,’ say I. ‘That +you shall, most valorous!’ says the gypsy, and jumping upon its back, he +puts it to its paces, first of all whispering something into its ear in +_Caló_, and truly the paces of the donkey are most wonderful, such as I +have never seen before. ‘I think it will just suit me;’ and, after +looking at it awhile, I take out the money and pay for it. ‘I shall go +to my house,’ says the gypsy; and off he runs. ‘I shall go to my +village,’ say I, and I mount the donkey. ‘_Vamonos_,’ say I, but the +donkey won’t move. I give him a switch, but I don’t get on the better +for that. ‘How is this?’ say I, and I fall to spurring him. What +happens then, brother? The wizard no sooner feels the prick than he +bucks down, and flings me over his head into the mire. I get up and look +about me; there stands the donkey staring at me, and there stand the +whole gypsy _canaille_ squinting at me with their filmy eyes. ‘Where is +the scamp who has sold me this piece of furniture?’ I shout. ‘He is gone +to Granada, valorous,’ says one. ‘He is gone to see his kindred among +the Moors,’ says another. ‘I just saw him running over the field, in the +direction of ---, with the devil close behind him,’ says a third. In a +word I am tricked. I wish to dispose of the donkey; no one, however, +will buy him; he is a _Caló_ donkey, and every person avoids him. At +last the gypsies offer thirty _reals_ for him; and after much chaffering +I am glad to get rid of him at two dollars. It is all a trick, however; +he returns to his master, and the brotherhood share the spoil amongst +them, all which villany would be prevented, in my opinion, were the +_Caló_ language not spoken; for what but the word of _Caló_ could have +induced the donkey to behave in such an unaccountable manner?” + +Both seemed perfectly satisfied with the justness of this conclusion, and +continued smoking till their cigars were burnt to stumps, when they +arose, twitched their whiskers, looked at us with fierce disdain, and +dashing the tobacco-ends to the ground, strode out of the apartment. + +“Those people seem no friends to the gypsies,” said I to Antonio, when +the two bullies had departed, “nor to the _Caló_ language either.” + +“May evil glanders seize their nostrils,” said Antonio; “they have been +_jonjabadoed_ {114a} by our people. However, brother, you did wrong to +speak to me in _Caló_, in a _posada_ like this; it is a forbidden +language; for, as I have often told you, the king has destroyed the law +of the _Calés_. {114b} Let us away, brother, or those _juntunes_ may set +the _justicia_ upon us.” + +Towards evening we drew near to a large town or village. “That is +Merida,” said Antonio, “formerly, as the _Busné_ say, a mighty city of +the _Corahai_. We shall stay here to-night, and perhaps for a day or +two, for I have some business of Egypt to transact in this place. Now, +brother, step aside with the horse, and wait for me beneath yonder wall. +I must go before and see in what condition matters stand.” + +I dismounted from the horse, and sat down on a stone beneath the ruined +wall to which Antonio had motioned me. The sun went down, and the air +was exceedingly keen; I drew close around me an old tattered gypsy cloak +with which my companion had provided me, and, being somewhat fatigued, +fell into a doze which lasted for nearly an hour. + +“Is your worship the London _Caloró_?” said a strange voice close beside +me. + +I started, and beheld the face of a woman peering under my hat. +Notwithstanding the dusk, I could see that the features were hideously +ugly and almost black; they belonged, in fact, to a gypsy crone, at least +seventy years of age, leaning upon a staff. + +“Is your worship the London _Caloró_?” repeated she. + +“I am he whom you seek,” said I; “where is Antonio?” + +“_Curelando_, _curelando_; _baribustres curelós terela_,” {115} said the +crone. “Come with me, _Caloró_ of my _garlochin_, come with me to my +little _ker_; he will be there anon.” + +I followed the crone, who led the way into the town, which was ruinous +and seemingly half deserted; we went up the street, from which she turned +into a narrow and dark lane, and presently opened the gate of a large +dilapidated house. “Come in,” said she. + +“And the _gras_?” I demanded. + +“Bring the _gras_ in too, my _chabó_, bring the _gras_ in too; there is +room for the _gras_ in my little stable.” We entered a large court, +across which we proceeded till we came to a wide doorway. “Go in, my +child of Egypt,” said the hag—“go in; that is my little stable.” + +“The place is as dark as pitch,” said I, “and may be a well for what I +know: bring a light, or I will not enter.” + +“Give me the _solabarri_,” said the hag, “and I will lead your horse in, +my _chabó_ of Egypt—yes, and tether him to my little manger.” She led +the horse through the doorway, and I heard her busy in the darkness; +presently the horse shook himself: “_Grasti terelamos_,” {116} said the +hag, who now made her appearance with the bridle in her hand; “the horse +has shaken himself, he is not harmed by his day’s journey; now let us go +in, my _Caloró_, into my little room.” + +We entered the house, and found ourselves in a vast room, which would +have been quite dark but for a faint glow which appeared at the farther +end: it proceeded from a _brasero_, beside which were squatted two dusky +figures. + +“These are _Callees_,” said the hag; “one is my daughter, and the other +is her _chabí_. Sit down, my London _Caloró_, and let us hear you +speak.” + +I looked about for a chair, but could see none; at a short distance, +however, I perceived the end of a broken pillar lying on the floor; this +I rolled to the _brasero_, and sat down upon it. + +“This is a fine house, mother of the gypsies,” said I to the hag, willing +to gratify the desire she had expressed of hearing me speak; “a fine +house is this of yours, rather cold and damp, though; it appears large +enough to be a barrack for _hundunares_.” + +“Plenty of houses in this _foros_, plenty of houses in Merida, my London +_Caloró_, some of them just as they were left by the _Corahanós_. Ah! a +fine people are the _Corahanós_; I often wish myself in their _chim_ once +more.” + +“How is this, mother?” said I; “have you been in the land of the Moors?” + +“Twice have I been in their country, my _Caloró_—twice have I been in the +land of the _Corahai_. The first time is more than fifty years ago; I +was then with the _Sesé_, for my husband was a soldier of the _Crallis_ +of Spain, and Oran at that time belonged to Spain.” + +“You were not then with the real Moors,” said I, “but only with the +Spaniards who occupied part of their country.” + +“I have been with the real Moors, my London _Caloró_. Who knows more of +the real Moors than myself? About forty years ago I was with my _ro_ in +Ceuta, for he was still a soldier of the king, and he said to me one day, +‘I am tired of this place, where there is no bread and less water; I will +escape and turn _Corahanó_; this night I will kill my sergeant, and flee +to the camp of the Moor.’ ‘Do so,’ said I, ‘my _chabó_, and as soon as +may be I will follow you and become a _Corahaní_.’ That same night he +killed his sergeant, who five years before had called him _Caló_ and +cursed him; then running to the wall he dropped from it, and, amidst many +shots, he escaped to the land of the _Corahai_. As for myself, I +remained in the _presidio_ of Ceuta as a suttler, selling wine and +_repañi_ to the soldiers. Two years passed by, and I neither saw nor +heard from my _ro_. One day there came a strange man to my _cachimani_; +he was dressed like a _Corahanó_, and yet he did not look like one; he +looked more like a _callardó_, and yet he was not a _callardó_ either, +though he was almost black; and as I looked upon him, I thought he looked +something like the _Errate_; and he said to me, ‘_Zincali_; _chachipé_!’ +and then he whispered to me in queer language, which I could scarcely +understand, ‘Your _ro_ is waiting; come with me, my little sister, and I +will take you unto him.’ ‘Where is he?’ said I, and he pointed to the +west, to the land of the _Corahai_, and said, ‘He is yonder away; come +with me, little sister, the _ro_ is waiting.’ For a moment I was afraid, +but I bethought me of my husband, and I wished to be amongst the +_Corahai_; so I took the little _parné_ I had, and, locking up the +_cachimani_, went with the strange man. The sentinel challenged us at +the gate, but I gave him _repañi_, and he let us pass; in a moment we +were in the land of the _Corahai_. About a league from the town, beneath +a hill, we found four people, men and women, all very black like the +strange man, and we joined ourselves with them, and they all saluted me +and called me little sister. That was all I understood of their +discourse, which was very crabbed; and they took away my dress, and gave +me other clothes, and I looked like a _Corahaní_, and away we marched for +many days amidst deserts and small villages, and more than once it seemed +to me that I was amongst the _Errate_, for their ways were the same. The +men would _hokkawar_ with mules and asses, and the women told _baji_, +{118} and after many days we came before a large town, and the black man +said, ‘Go in there, little sister, and there you will find your _ro_;’ +and I went to the gate, and an armed _Corahanó_ stood within the gate, +and I looked in his face, and lo! it was my _ro_. + +“Oh, what a strange town it was that I found myself in, full of people +who had once been _Candoré_ but had renegaded and become _Corahai_! +There were _Sesé_ and _Laloré_, and men of other nations, and amongst +them were some of the _Errate_ from my own country; all were now soldiers +of the _Crallis_ of the _Corahai_, and followed him to his wars; and in +that town I remained with my _ro_ a long time, occasionally going out +with him to the wars, and I often asked him about the black men who had +brought me thither, and he told me that he had had dealings with them, +and that he believed them to be of the _Errate_. Well, brother, to be +short, my _ro_ was killed in the wars, before a town to which the king of +the _Corahai_ laid siege, and I became a _piulí_, and I returned to the +village of the renegades, as it was called, and supported myself as well +as I could; and one day, as I was sitting weeping, the black man, whom I +had never seen since the day he brought me to my _ro_, again stood before +me, and he said, ‘Come with me, little sister, come with me, the _ro_ is +at hand,’ and I went with him, and beyond the gate in the desert was the +same party of black men and women which I had seen before. ‘Where is my +_ro_?’ said I. ‘Here he is, little sister,’ said the black man, ‘here he +is; from this day I am the _ro_ and you the _romi_. Come, let us go, for +there is business to be done.’ + +“And I went with him, and he was my _ro_, and we lived amongst the +deserts, and _hokkawar’d_ and _choried_ and told _baji_; and I said to +myself, ‘This is good; sure I am amongst the _Errate_ in a better _chim_ +than my own.’ And I often said that they were of the _Errate_, and then +they would laugh and say that it might be so, and that they were not +_Corahai_, but they could give no account of themselves. + +“Well, things went on in this way for years, and I had three _chai_ by +the black man; two of them died, but the youngest, who is the _Callí_ who +sits by the _brasero_, was spared. So we roamed about and _choried_ and +told _baji_; and it came to pass that once in the winter time our company +attempted to pass a wide and deep river, of which there are many in the +_Chim del Corahai_, and the boat overset with the rapidity of the +current, and all our people were drowned, all but myself and my _chabí_, +whom I bore in my bosom. I had now no friends amongst the _Corahai_, and +I wandered about the _despoblados_ howling and lamenting till I became +half _lilí_, and in this manner I found my way to the coast, where I made +friends with the captain of a ship, and returned to this land of Spain. +And now I am here, I often wish myself back again amongst the _Corahai_.” + +Here she commenced laughing loud and long, and when she had ceased, her +daughter and grandchild took up the laugh, which they continued so long +that I concluded they were all lunatics. + +Hour succeeded hour, and still we sat crouching over the _brasero_, from +which, by this time, all warmth had departed; the glow had long since +disappeared, and only a few dying sparks were to be distinguished. The +room or hall was now involved in utter darkness; the women were +motionless and still; I shivered and began to feel uneasy. “Will Antonio +be here to-night?” at length I demanded. + +“_No tenga usted cuidao_, {120} my London _Caloró_,” said the gypsy +mother, in an unearthly tone; “_Pepindorio_ has been here some time.” + +I was about to rise from my seat and attempt to escape from the house, +when I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder, and in a moment I heard the +voice of Antonio. + +“Be not afraid; ’tis I, brother. We will have a light anon, and then +supper.” + +The supper was rude enough, consisting of bread, cheese, and olives; +Antonio, however, produced a leathern bottle of excellent wine. We +despatched these viands by the light of an earthen lamp, which was placed +upon the floor. + +“Now,” said Antonio to the youngest female, “bring me the _pajandí_, and +I will sing a _gachapla_.” + +The girl brought the guitar, which, with some difficulty, the gypsy +tuned, and then, strumming it vigorously, he sang— + + “I stole a plump and bonny fowl, + But ere I well had din’d, + The master came with scowl and growl, + And me would captive bind. + + “My hat and mantle off I threw, + And scour’d across the lea; + Then cried the _beng_ with loud halloo, + Where does the gypsy flee?” + +He continued playing and singing for a considerable time, the two younger +females dancing in the meanwhile with unwearied diligence, whilst the +aged mother occasionally snapped her fingers or beat time on the ground +with her stick. At last Antonio suddenly laid down the instrument, +exclaiming— + +“I see the London _Caloró_ is weary; enough, enough, to-morrow more +thereof. We will now to the _charipé_.” + +“With all my heart,” said I; “where are we to sleep?” + +“In the stable,” said he, “in the manger; however cold the stable may be, +we shall be warm enough in the _bufa_.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The Gypsy’s Granddaughter—Proposed Marriage—The Alguazil—The +Assault—Speedy Trot—Arrival at Trujillo—Night and Rain—The Forest—The +Bivouac—Mount and Away!—Jaraicejo—The National—The Cavalier +Balmerson—Among the Thickets—Serious Discourse—What is Truth?—Unexpected +Intelligence. + +We remained three days at the gypsies’ house, Antonio departing early +every morning, on his mule, and returning late at night. The house was +large and ruinous, the only habitable part of it, with the exception of +the stable, being the hall, where we had supped, and there the gypsy +females slept at night, on some mats and mattresses in a corner. + +“A strange house is this,” said I to Antonio, one morning as he was on +the point of saddling his mule and departing, as I supposed, on the +affairs of Egypt; “a strange house and strange people. That gypsy +grandmother has all the appearance of a _sowanee_.” + +“All the appearance of one!” said Antonio; “and is she not really one? +She knows more crabbed things and crabbed words than all the _Errate_ +betwixt here and Catalonia. She has been amongst the wild Moors, and can +make more _draos_, {122} poisons, and philtres than any one alive. She +once made a kind of paste, and persuaded me to taste, and shortly after I +had done so my soul departed from my body, and wandered through horrid +forests and mountains, amidst monsters and _duendes_, during one entire +night. She learned many things amidst the _Corahai_ which I should be +glad to know.” + +“Have you been long acquainted with her?” said I. “You appear to be +quite at home in this house.” + +“Acquainted with her!” said Antonio. “Did not my own brother marry the +black _Callí_, her daughter, who bore him the _chabí_, sixteen years ago, +just before he was hanged by the _Busné_?” + +In the afternoon I was seated with the gypsy mother in the hall, the two +_Callees_ were absent telling fortunes about the town and neighbourhood, +which was their principal occupation. “Are you married, my London +_Caloró_?” said the old woman to me. “Are you a _ro_?” + +_Myself_.—Wherefore do you ask, _O Dai de los Calés_? {123a} + +_Gypsy Mother_.—It is high time that the _lacha_ {123b} of the _chabi_ +were taken from her, and that she had a _ro_. You can do no better than +take her for _romí_, my London _Caloró_. + +_Myself_.—I am a stranger in this land, O mother of the gypsies, and +scarcely know how to provide for myself, much less for a _romí_. + +_Gypsy Mother_.—She wants no one to provide for her, my London _Caloró_; +she can at any time provide for herself and her _ro_. She can +_hokkawar_, tell _baji_, and there are few to equal her at stealing _á +pastesas_. {124} Were she once at _Madrilati_, where they tell me you +are going, she would make much treasure; therefore take her thither, for +in this _foros_ she is _nahi_, as it were, for there is nothing to be +gained; but in the _foros baro_ it would be another matter; she would go +dressed in _lachipé_ and _sonacai_, whilst you would ride about on your +black-tailed _gra_; and when you had got much treasure, you might return +hither and live like a _Crallis_, and all the _Errate_ of the _Chim del +Manró_ should bow down their heads to you. What say you, my London +_Caloró_, what say you to my plan? + +_Myself_.—Your plan is a plausible one, mother, or at least some people +would think so; but I am, as you are aware, of another _chim_, and have +no inclination to pass my life in this country. + +_Gypsy Mother_.—Then return to your own country, my _Caloró_, the _chabí_ +can cross the _pañí_. Would she not do business in London with the rest +of the _Caloré_? Or why not go to the land of the _Corahai_? In which +case I would accompany you; I and my daughter, the mother of the _chabí_. + +_Myself_.—And what should we do in the land of the _Corahai_? It is a +poor and wild country, I believe. + +_Gypsy Mother_.—The London _Caloró_ asks me what we could do in the land +of the _Corahai_! _Aromali_! I almost think that I am speaking to a +_lilipendi_. Are there not horses to _chore_? Yes, I trow there are, +and better ones than in this land, and asses and mules. In the land of +the _Corahai_ you must _hokkawar_ and _chore_ even as you must here, or +in your own country, or else you are no _Caloró_. Can you not join +yourselves with the black people who live in the _despoblados_? Yes, +surely; and glad they would be to have among them the _Errate_ from Spain +and London. I am seventy years of age, but I wish not to die in this +_chim_, but yonder, far away, where both my _roms_ are sleeping. Take +the _chabí_, therefore, and go to _Madrilati_ to win the _parné_, and +when you have got it, return, and we will give a banquet to all the +_Busné_ in Merida, and in their food I will mix _drao_, and they shall +eat and burst like poisoned sheep. . . . And when they have eaten we +will leave them, and away to the land of the Moor, my London _Caloró_. + +During the whole time that I remained at Merida I stirred not once from +the house; following the advice of Antonio, who informed me that it would +not be convenient. My time lay rather heavily on my hands, my only +source of amusement consisting in the conversation of the women, and in +that of Antonio when he made his appearance at night. In these +_tertulias_ the grandmother was the principal spokeswoman, and astonished +my ears with wonderful tales of the land of the Moors, prison escapes, +thievish feats, and one or two poisoning adventures, in which she had +been engaged, as she informed me, in her early youth. + +There was occasionally something very wild in her gestures and demeanour; +more than once I observed her, in the midst of much declamation, to stop +short, stare in vacancy, and thrust out her palms as if endeavouring to +push away some invisible substance; she goggled frightfully with her +eyes, and once sank back in convulsions, of which her children took no +farther notice than observing that she was only _lilí_, and would soon +come to herself. + +Late in the afternoon of the third day, as the three women and myself sat +conversing as usual over the _brasero_, a shabby-looking fellow in an old +rusty cloak walked into the room. He came straight up to the place where +we were sitting, produced a paper cigar, which he lighted at a coal, and +taking a whiff or two, looked at me: “_Carracho_,” said he, “who is this +companion?” + +I saw at once that the fellow was no gypsy: the women said nothing, but I +could hear the grandmother growling to herself, something after the +manner of an old grimalkin when disturbed. + +“_Carracho_,” reiterated the fellow, “how came this companion here?” + +“_No le penela chi_, _min chaboró_,” said the black _Callee_ to me, in an +undertone; “_sin un balichó de los chineles_;” {126} then looking up to +the interrogator, she said aloud, “He is one of our people from Portugal, +come on the smuggling lay, and to see his poor sisters here.” + +“Then let him give me some tobacco,” said the fellow; “I suppose he has +brought some with him.” + +“He has no tobacco,” said the black _Callee_; “he has nothing but old +iron. This cigar is the only tobacco there is in the house; take it, +smoke it, and go away!” + +Thereupon she produced a cigar from out her shoe, which she presented to +the _alguazil_. + +“This will not do,” said the fellow, taking the cigar; “I must have +something better. It is now three months since I received anything from +you. The last present was a handkerchief, which was good for nothing; +therefore hand me over something worth taking, or I will carry you all to +the _Carcel_.” + +“The _Busnó_ will take us to prison,” said the black _Callee_; “ha! ha! +ha!” + +“The _Chinel_ will take us to prison,” giggled the young girl; “he! he! +he!” + +“The _Bengui_ will carry us all to the _estaripel_,” grunted the gypsy +grandmother; “ho! ho! ho!” + +The three females arose and walked slowly round the fellow, fixing their +eyes steadfastly on his face; he appeared frightened, and evidently +wished to get away. Suddenly the two youngest seized his hands, and +whilst he struggled to release himself, the old woman exclaimed, “You +want tobacco, _hijo_—you come to the gypsy house to frighten the +_Callees_ and the strange _Caloró_ out of their _plako_—truly, _hijo_, we +have none for you, and right sorry I am; we have, however, plenty of the +dust _á su servicio_.” {127} + +Here, thrusting her hand into her pocket, she discharged a handful of +some kind of dust or snuff into the fellow’s eyes; he stamped and roared, +but was for some time held fast by the two _Callees_. He extricated +himself, however, and attempted to unsheath a knife which he bore at his +girdle; but the two younger females flung themselves upon him like +furies, while the old woman increased his disorder by thrusting her stick +into his face; he was soon glad to give up the contest, and retreated, +leaving behind him his hat and cloak, which the _chabí_ gathered up and +flung after him into the street. + +“This is a bad business,” said I; “the fellow will of course bring the +rest of the _justicia_ upon us, and we shall all be cast into the +_estaripel_.” + +“_Ca_!” said the black _Callee_, biting her thumb-nail, “he has more +reason to fear us than we him. We could bring him to the _filimicha_; we +have, moreover, friends in this town—plenty, plenty.” + +“Yes,” mumbled the grandmother, “the daughters of the _baji_ have +friends, my London _Caloró_, friends among the _Busné_, _baributre_, +_baribú_.” + +Nothing farther of any account occurred in the gypsy house. The next +day, Antonio and myself were again in the saddle; we travelled at least +thirteen leagues before we reached the _venta_, where we passed the +night. We rose early in the morning, my guide informing me that we had a +long day’s journey to make. “Where are we bound to?” I demanded. “To +Trujillo,” he replied. + +When the sun arose, which it did gloomily, and amidst threatening +rain-clouds, we found ourselves in the neighbourhood of a range of +mountains which lay on our left, and which, Antonio informed me, were +called the Sierra of San Selvan. Our route, however, lay over wide +plains, scantily clothed with brushwood, with here and there a melancholy +village, with its old and dilapidated church. Throughout the greater +part of the day, a drizzling rain was falling, which turned the dust of +the roads into mud and mire, considerably impeding our progress. Towards +evening we reached a moor, a wild place enough, strewn with enormous +stones and rocks. Before us, at some distance, rose a strange conical +hill, rough and shaggy, which appeared to be neither more nor less than +an immense assemblage of the same kind of rocks which lay upon the moor. +The rain had now ceased, but a strong wind rose and howled at our backs. +Throughout the journey, I had experienced considerable difficulty in +keeping up with the mule of Antonio; the walk of the horse was slow, and +I could discover no vestige of the spirit which the gypsy had assured me +lurked within him. We were now upon a tolerably clear spot of the moor: +“I am about to see,” I said, “whether this horse has any of the quality +which you have described.” “Do so,” said Antonio, and spurred his beast +onward, speedily leaving me far behind. I jerked the horse with the bit, +endeavouring to arouse his dormant spirit, whereupon he stopped, reared, +and refused to proceed. “Hold the bridle loose, and touch him with your +whip,” shouted Antonio from before. I obeyed, and forthwith the animal +set off at a trot, which gradually increased in swiftness till it became +a downright furious speedy trot; his limbs were now thoroughly lithy, and +he brandished his fore-legs in a manner perfectly wondrous. The mule of +Antonio, which was a spirited animal of excellent paces, would fain have +competed with him, but was passed in a twinkling. This tremendous trot +endured for about a mile, when the animal, becoming yet more heated, +broke suddenly into a gallop. Hurrah! no hare ever ran so wildly or +blindly; it was, literally, _ventre à terre_; and I had considerable +difficulty in keeping him clear of rocks, against which he would have +rushed in his savage fury, and dashed himself and rider to atoms. + +This race brought me to the foot of the hill, where I waited till the +gypsy rejoined me. We left the hill, which seemed quite inaccessible, on +our right, passing through a small and wretched village. The sun went +down, and dark night presently came upon us; we proceeded on, however, +for nearly three hours, until we heard the barking of dogs, and perceived +a light or two in the distance. “That is Trujillo,” said Antonio, who +had not spoken for a long time. “I am glad of it,” I replied; “I am +thoroughly tired; I shall sleep soundly in Trujillo.” “That is as it may +be,” said the gypsy, and spurred his mule to a brisker pace. We soon +entered the town, which appeared dark and gloomy enough; I followed close +behind the gypsy, who led the way I knew not whither, through dismal +streets and dark places, where cats were squalling. “Here is the house,” +said he at last, dismounting before a low mean hut. He knocked—no answer +was returned; he knocked again, but still there was no reply; he shook +the door and essayed to open it, but it appeared firmly locked and +bolted. “_Caramba_!” said he; “they are out—I feared it might be so. +Now, what are we to do?” + +“There can be no difficulty,” said I, “with respect to what we have to +do; if your friends are gone out, it is easy enough to go to a _posada_.” + +“You know not what you say,” replied the gypsy. “I dare not go to the +_mesuna_, nor enter any house in Trujillo save this, and this is shut. +Well, there is no remedy; we must move on, and, between ourselves, the +sooner we leave this place the better; my own _planoró_ was garroted at +Trujillo.” + +He lighted a cigar, by means of a steel and _yesca_, sprang on his mule, +and proceeded through streets and lanes equally dismal as those which we +had already traversed, till we again found ourselves out of the town. + +I confess I did not much like this decision of the gypsy; I felt very +slight inclination to leave the town behind, and to venture into unknown +places in the dark night, amidst rain and mist, for the wind had now +dropped, and the rain began again to fall briskly. I was, moreover, much +fatigued, and wished for nothing better than to deposit myself in some +comfortable manger, where I might sink to sleep, lulled by the pleasant +sound of horses and mules despatching their provender. I had, however, +put myself under the direction of the gypsy, and I was too old a +traveller to quarrel with my guide under the present circumstances. I +therefore followed close at his crupper, our only light being the glow +emitted from the gypsy’s cigar; at last he flung it from his mouth into a +puddle, and we were then in darkness. + +We proceeded in this manner for a long time. The gypsy was silent; I +myself was equally so; the rain descended more and more. I sometimes +thought I heard doleful noises, something like the hooting of owls. +“This is a strange night to be wandering abroad in,” I at length said to +Antonio. “It is, brother,” said he; “but I would sooner be abroad in +such a night, and in such places, than in the _estaripel_ of Trujillo.” + +We wandered at least a league farther, and appeared now to be near a +wood, for I could occasionally distinguish the trunks of immense trees. +Suddenly Antonio stopped his mule. “Look, brother,” said he, “to the +left, and tell me if you do not see a light; your eyes are sharper than +mine.” I did as he commanded me. At first I could see nothing, but, +moving a little farther on, I plainly saw a large light at some distance, +seemingly amongst the trees. “Yonder cannot be a lamp or candle,” said +I; “it is more like the blaze of a fire.” “Very likely,” said Antonio. +“There are no _queres_ in this place; it is doubtless a fire made by +_durotunes_. Let us go and join them, for, as you say, it is doleful +work wandering about at night amidst rain and mire.” + +We dismounted and entered what I now saw was a forest, leading the +animals cautiously amongst the trees and brushwood. In about five +minutes we reached a small open space, at the farther side of which, at +the foot of a large cork-tree, a fire was burning, and by it stood or sat +two or three figures; they had heard our approach, and one of them now +exclaimed, “_Quien vive_!” {132} “I know that voice,” said Antonio; and, +leaving the horse with me, rapidly advanced towards the fire. Presently +I heard an _Ola_! and a laugh, and soon the voice of Antonio summoned me +to advance. On reaching the fire I found two dark lads, and a still +darker woman of about forty; the latter seated on what appeared to be +horse or mule furniture. I likewise saw a horse and two donkeys tethered +to the neighbouring trees. It was, in fact, a gypsy bivouac. . . . +“Come forward, brother, and show yourself,” said Antonio to me; “you are +amongst friends. These are of the _Errate_, the very people whom I +expected to find at Trujillo, and in whose house we should have slept.” + +“And what,” said I, “could have induced them to leave their house in +Trujillo and come into this dark forest, in the midst of wind and rain, +to pass the night?” + +“They come on business of Egypt, brother, doubtless,” replied Antonio; +“and that business is none of ours. _Calla boca_! {133a} It is lucky we +have found them here, else we should have had no supper, and our horses +no corn.” + +“My _ro_ is prisoner at the village yonder,” said the woman, pointing +with her hand in a particular direction; “he is prisoner yonder for +_choring a mailla_. {133b} We are come to see what we can do in his +behalf; and where can we lodge better than in this forest, where there is +nothing to pay? It is not the first time, I trow, that _Caloré_ have +slept at the root of a tree.” + +One of the striplings now gave us barley for our animals in a large bag, +into which we successively introduced their heads, allowing the famished +creatures to regale themselves till we conceived that they had satisfied +their hunger. There was a _puchero_ simmering at the fire, half full of +bacon, _garbanzos_, and other provisions; this was emptied into a large +wooden platter, and out of this Antonio and myself supped. The other +gypsies refused to join us, giving us to understand that they had eaten +before our arrival; they all, however, did justice to the leathern bottle +of Antonio, which, before his departure from Merida, he had the +precaution to fill. + +I was by this time completely overcome with fatigue and sleep. Antonio +flung me an immense horse-cloth, of which he bore more than one beneath +the huge cushion on which he rode; in this I wrapped myself, and placing +my head upon a bundle, and my feet as near as possible to the fire, I lay +down. + +Antonio and the other gypsies remained seated by the fire conversing. I +listened for a moment to what they said, but I did not perfectly +understand it, and what I did understand by no means interested me. The +rain still drizzled, but I heeded it not, and was soon asleep. + +The sun was just appearing as I awoke. I made several efforts before I +could rise from the ground; my limbs were quite stiff, and my hair was +covered with rime, for the rain had ceased and a rather severe frost set +in. I looked around me, but could see neither Antonio nor the gypsies. +The animals of the latter had likewise disappeared, so had the horse +which I had hitherto rode; the mule, however, of Antonio still remained +fastened to the tree. This latter circumstance quieted some +apprehensions which were beginning to arise in my mind. “They are gone +on some business of Egypt,” I said to myself, “and will return anon.” I +gathered together the embers of the fire, and heaping upon them sticks +and branches, soon succeeded in calling forth a blaze, beside which I +again placed the _puchero_, with what remained of the provision of last +night. I waited for a considerable time in expectation of the return of +my companions, but as they did not appear, I sat down and breakfasted. +Before I had well finished I heard the noise of a horse approaching +rapidly, and presently Antonio made his appearance amongst the trees, +with some agitation in his countenance. He sprang from the horse, and +instantly proceeded to untie the mule. “Mount, brother, mount!” said he, +pointing to the horse. “I went with the _Callee_ and her _chabés_ to the +village where the _ro_ is in trouble; the _chinobaró_, however, seized +them at once with their cattle, and would have laid hands also on me, but +I set spurs to the _grasti_, gave him the bridle, and was soon far away. +Mount, brother, mount, or we shall have the whole rustic _canaille_ upon +us in a twinkling.” + +I did as he commanded: we were presently in the road which we had left +the night before. Along this we hurried at a great rate, the horse +displaying his best speedy trot; whilst the mule, with its ears pricked +up, galloped gallantly at his side. “What place is that on the hill +yonder?” said I to Antonio, at the expiration of an hour, as we prepared +to descend a deep valley. + +“That is Jaraicejo,” said Antonio; “a bad place it is, and a bad place it +has ever been for the _Caló_ people.” {135} + +“If it is such a bad place,” said I, “I hope we shall not have to pass +through it.” + +“We must pass through it,” said Antonio, “for more reasons than one: +first, forasmuch as the road lies through Jaraicejo; and, second, +forasmuch as it will be necessary to purchase provisions there, both for +ourselves and horses. On the other side of Jaraicejo there is a wild +desert, a _despoblado_, where we shall find nothing.” + +We crossed the valley, and ascended the hill, and as we drew near to the +town, the gypsy said, “Brother, we had best pass through that town +singly. I will go in advance; follow slowly, and when there purchase +bread and barley; you have nothing to fear. I will await you on the +_despoblado_.” + +Without waiting for my answer he hastened forward, and was speedily out +of sight. + +I followed slowly behind, and entered the gate of the town, an old +dilapidated place, consisting of little more than one street. Along this +street I was advancing, when a man with a dirty foraging cap on his head, +and holding a gun in his hand, came running up to me. “Who are you?” +said he, in rather rough accents; “from whence do you come?” + +“From Badajoz and Trujillo,” I replied; “why do you ask?” + +“I am one of the national guard,” said the man, “and am placed here to +inspect strangers. I am told that a gypsy fellow just now rode through +the town; it is well for him that I had stepped into my house. Do you +come in his company?” + +“Do I look a person,” said I, “likely to keep company with gypsies?” + +The national measured me from top to toe, and then looked me full in the +face with an expression which seemed to say, “likely enough.” In fact, +my appearance was by no means calculated to prepossess people in my +favour. Upon my head I wore an old Andalusian hat, which, from its +condition, appeared to have been trodden underfoot; a rusty cloak, which +had perhaps served half a dozen generations, enwrapped my body. My +nether garments were by no means of the finest description, and, as far +as could be seen, were covered with mud, with which my face was likewise +plentifully bespattered, and upon my chin was a beard of a week’s growth. + +“Have you a passport?” at length demanded the national. + +I remembered having read that the best way to win a Spaniard’s heart is +to treat him with ceremonious civility. I therefore dismounted, and +taking off my hat, made a low bow to the constitutional soldier, saying, +“_Señor nacional_, you must know that I am an English gentleman, +travelling in this country for my pleasure. I bear a passport, which, on +inspecting, you will find to be perfectly regular; it was given me by the +great Lord Palmerston, minister of England, whom you of course have heard +of here; at the bottom you will see his own handwriting. Look at it and +rejoice; perhaps you will never have another opportunity. As I put +unbounded confidence in the honour of every gentleman, I leave the +passport in your hands whilst I repair to the _posada_ to refresh myself. +When you have inspected it, you will perhaps oblige me so far as to bring +it to me. Cavalier, I kiss your hands.” + +I then made him another low bow, which he returned with one still lower, +and leaving him now staring at the passport and now looking at myself, I +went into a posada, to which I was directed by a beggar whom I met. + +I fed the horse, and procured some bread and barley, as the gypsy had +directed me; I likewise purchased three fine partridges of a fowler, who +was drinking wine in the _posada_. He was satisfied with the price I +gave him, and offered to treat me with a _copita_, to which I made no +objection. As we sat discoursing at the table, the national entered with +the passport in his hand, and sat down by us. + +_National_.—_Caballero_! I return you your passport; it is quite in +form. I rejoice much to have made your acquaintance; I have no doubt +that you can give me some information respecting the present war. + +_Myself_.—I shall be very happy to afford so polite and honourable a +gentleman any information in my power. + +_National_.—What is England doing? Is she about to afford any assistance +to this country? If she pleased she could put down the war in three +months. + +_Myself_.—Be under no apprehension, _Señor nacional_; the war will be put +down, don’t doubt. You have heard of the English legion, {138a} which my +Lord Palmerston has sent over? Leave the matter in their hands, and you +will soon see the result. + +_National_.—It appears to me that this _Caballero_ Balmerson must be a +very honest man. + +_Myself_.—There can be no doubt of it. + +_National_.—I have heard that he is a great general. + +_Myself_.—There can be no doubt of it. In some things neither Napoleon +nor the Sawyer {138b} would stand a chance with him for a moment. _Es +mucho hombre_. {138c} + +_National_.—I am glad to hear it. Does he intend to head the legion +himself? + +_Myself_.—I believe not; but he has sent over, to head the fighting men, +a friend of his, who is thought to be nearly as much versed in military +matters as himself. + +_National_.—I am rejoiced to hear it. I see that the war will soon be +over. _Caballero_, I thank you for your politeness, and for the +information which you have afforded me. I hope you will have a pleasant +journey. I confess that I am surprised to see a gentleman of your +country travelling alone, and in this manner, through such regions as +these. The roads are at present very bad; there have of late been many +accidents, and more than two deaths in this neighbourhood. The +_despoblado_ out yonder has a particularly evil name; be on your guard, +_Caballero_. I am sorry that gypsy was permitted to pass; should you +meet him and not like his looks, shoot him at once, stab him, or ride him +down. He is a well-known thief, _contrabandista_, and murderer, and has +committed more assassinations than he has fingers on his hands. +_Caballero_, if you please, we will allow you a guard to the other side +of the pass. You do not wish it? Then, farewell. Stay, before I go I +should wish to see once more the signature of the _Caballero_ Balmerson. + +I showed him the signature, which he looked upon with profound reverence, +uncovering his head for a moment. We then embraced and parted. + +I mounted the horse and rode from the town, at first proceeding very +slowly. I had no sooner, however, reached the moor, than I put the +animal to his speedy trot, and proceeded at a tremendous rate for some +time, expecting every moment to overtake the gypsy. I, however, saw +nothing of him, nor did I meet with a single human being. The road along +which I sped was narrow and sandy, winding amidst thickets of broom and +brushwood, with which the _despoblado_ was overgrown, and which in some +places were as high as a man’s head. Across the moor, in the direction +in which I was proceeding, rose a lofty eminence, naked and bare. The +moor extended for at least three leagues; I had nearly crossed it, and +reached the foot of the ascent. I was becoming very uneasy, conceiving +that I might have passed the gypsy amongst the thickets, when I suddenly +heard his well-known _Ola_! and his black savage head and staring eyes +suddenly appeared from amidst a clump of broom. + +“You have tarried long, brother,” said he; “I almost thought you had +played me false.” + +He bade me dismount, and then proceeded to lead the horse behind the +thicket, where I found the mule picqueted to the ground. I gave him the +barley and provisions, and then proceeded to relate to him my adventure +with the national. + +“I would I had him here,” said the gypsy, on hearing the epithets which +the former had lavished upon him—“I would I had him here, then should my +_chulí_ and his _carlo_ become better acquainted.” + +“And what are you doing here yourself,” I demanded, “in this wild place, +amidst these thickets?” + +“I am expecting a messenger down yon pass,” said the gypsy; “and till +that messenger arrive I can neither go forward nor return. It is on +business of Egypt, brother, that I am here.” + +As he invariably used this last expression when he wished to evade my +inquiries, I held my peace, and said no more. The animals were fed, and +we proceeded to make a frugal repast on bread and wine. + +“Why do you not cook the game which I brought?” I demanded; “in this +place there is plenty of materials for a fire.” + +“The smoke might discover us, brother,” said Antonio. “I am desirous of +lying _escondido_ in this place until the arrival of the messenger.” + +It was now considerably past noon. The gypsy lay behind the thicket, +raising himself up occasionally and looking anxiously towards the hill +which lay over against us; at last, with an exclamation of disappointment +and impatience, he flung himself on the ground, where he lay a +considerable time, apparently ruminating; at last he lifted up his head +and looked me in the face. + +_Antonio_.—Brother, I cannot imagine what business brought you to this +country. + +_Myself_.—Perhaps the same which brings you to this moor—business of +Egypt. + +_Antonio_.—Not so, brother; you speak the language of Egypt, it is true, +but your ways and words are neither those of the _Calés_ nor of the +_Busné_. + +_Myself_.—Did you not hear me speak in the _foros_ about God and +_Tebleque_? It was to declare His glory to the _Calés_ and Gentiles that +I came to the land of Spain. + +_Antonio_.—And who sent you on this errand? + +_Myself_.—You would scarcely understand me were I to inform you. Know, +however, that there are many in foreign lands who lament the darkness +which envelops Spain, and the scenes of cruelty, robbery, and murder +which deform it. + +_Antonio_.—Are they _Caloré_ or _Busné_? + +_Myself_.—What matters it? Both _Caloré_ and _Busné_ are sons of the +same God. + +_Antonio_.—You lie, brother; they are not of one father nor of one +_Errate_. You speak of robbery, cruelty, and murder. There are too many +_Busné_, brother; if there were no _Busné_ there would be neither robbery +nor murder. The _Caloré_ neither rob nor murder each other, the _Busné_ +do; nor are they cruel to their animals, their law forbids them. When I +was a child I was beating a _burra_, but my father stopped my hand, and +chided me. “Hurt not the animal,” said he; “for within it is the soul of +your own sister!” + +_Myself_.—And do you believe in this wild doctrine, O Antonio? + +_Antonio_.—Sometimes I do, sometimes I do not. There are some who +believe in nothing; not even that they live! Long since, I knew an old +_Caloró_—he was old, very old, upwards of a hundred years—and I once +heard him say, that all we thought we saw was a lie; that there was no +world, no men nor women, no horses nor mules, no olive-trees. But +whither are we straying? I asked what induced you to come to this +country—you tell me, the glory of God and _Tebleque_. _Disparate_! tell +that to the _Busné_. You have good reasons for coming, no doubt, else +you would not be here. Some say you are a spy of the _Londoné_. Perhaps +you are; I care not. Rise, brother, and tell me whether any one is +coming down the pass. + +“I see a distant object,” I replied; “like a speck on the side of the +hill.” + +The gypsy started up, and we both fixed our eyes on the object: the +distance was so great that it was at first with difficulty that we could +distinguish whether it moved or not. A quarter of an hour, however, +dispelled all doubts, for within this time it had nearly reached the +bottom of the hill, and we could descry a figure seated on an animal of +some kind. + +“It is a woman,” said I, at length, “mounted on a grey donkey.” + +“Then it is my messenger,” said Antonio, “for it can be no other.” + +The woman and the donkey were now upon the plain, and for some time were +concealed from us by the copse and brushwood which intervened. They were +not long, however, in making their appearance at the distance of about a +hundred yards. The donkey was a beautiful creature of a silver grey, and +came frisking along, swinging her tail, and moving her feet so quick that +they scarcely seemed to touch the ground. The animal no sooner perceived +us than she stopped short, turned round, and attempted to escape by the +way she had come; her rider, however, detained her, whereupon the donkey +kicked violently, and would probably have flung the former, had she not +sprung nimbly to the ground. The form of the woman was entirely +concealed by the large wrapping man’s cloak which she wore. I ran to +assist her, when she turned her face full upon me, and I instantly +recognized the sharp, clever features of Antonia, whom I had seen at +Badajoz, the daughter of my guide. She said nothing to me, but advancing +to her father, addressed something to him in a low voice, which I did not +hear. He started back, and vociferated “All!” “Yes,” said she in a +louder tone, probably repeating the words which I had not caught before, +“All are captured.” + +The gypsy remained for some time like one astounded, and, unwilling to +listen to their discourse, which I imagined might relate to business of +Egypt, I walked away amidst the thickets. I was absent for some time, +but could occasionally hear passionate expressions and oaths. In about +half an hour I returned; they had left the road, but I found them behind +the broom clump, where the animals stood. Both were seated on the +ground. The features of the gypsy were peculiarly dark and grim; he held +his unsheathed knife in his hand, which he would occasionally plunge into +the earth, exclaiming, “All! All!” + +“Brother,” said he at last, “I can go no farther with you; the business +which carried me to _Castumba_ is settled. You must now travel by +yourself and trust to your _baji_.” + +“I trust in _Undevel_,” I replied, “who wrote my fortune long ago. But +how am I to journey? I have no horse, for you doubtless want your own.” + +The gypsy appeared to reflect. “I want the horse, it is true, brother,” +he said, “and likewise the _macho_; but you shall not go _en pindré_; +{143} you shall purchase the _burra_ of Antonia, which I presented her +when I sent her upon this expedition.” + +“The _burra_,” I replied, “appears both savage and vicious.” + +“She is both, brother, and on that account I bought her; a savage and +vicious beast has generally four excellent legs. You are a _Caló_, +brother, and can manage her; you shall therefore purchase the savage +_burra_, giving my daughter Antonia a _baria_ of gold. If you think fit, +you can sell the beast at Talavera or Madrid, for Estremenian _bestis_ +are highly considered in _Castumba_.” + +In less than an hour I was on the other side of the pass, mounted on the +savage _burra_. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +The Pass of Mirabete—Wolves and Shepherds—Female Subtlety—Death by +Wolves—The Mystery solved—The Mountains—The Dark Hour—The Traveller of +the Night—Abarbenel—Hoarded Treasure—Force of Gold—The Archbishop—Arrival +at Madrid. + +I proceeded down the pass of Mirabete, occasionally ruminating on the +matter which had brought me to Spain, and occasionally admiring one of +the finest prospects in the world. Before me outstretched lay immense +plains, bounded in the distance by huge mountains, whilst at the foot of +the hill which I was now descending rolled the Tagus, in a deep narrow +stream, between lofty banks; the whole was gilded by the rays of the +setting sun, for the day, though cold and wintry, was bright and clear. +In about an hour I reached the river at a place where stood the remains +of what had once been a magnificent bridge, which had, however, been +blown up in the Peninsular war and never since repaired. + +I crossed the river in a ferry-boat; the passage was rather difficult, +the current very rapid and swollen, owing to the latter rains. + +“Am I in New Castile?” I demanded of the ferryman, on reaching the +further bank. “The _raya_ is many leagues from hence,” replied the +ferryman; “you seem a stranger. Whence do you come?” “From England,” I +replied, and without waiting for an answer, I sprang on the _burra_, and +proceeded on my way. The _burra_ plied her feet most nimbly, and shortly +after nightfall, brought me to a village at about two leagues’ distance +from the river’s bank. + +I sat down in the _venta_ where I put up; there was a huge fire, +consisting of the greater part of the trunk of an olive-tree. The +company was rather miscellaneous: a hunter with his _escopeta_; a brace +of shepherds with immense dogs, of that species for which Estremadura +{146} is celebrated; a broken soldier, just returned from the wars; and a +beggar, who, after demanding charity for the seven wounds of _Maria +Santísima_, took a seat amidst us, and made himself quite comfortable. +The hostess was an active, bustling woman, and busied herself in cooking +my supper, which consisted of the game which I had purchased at +Jaraicejo, and which, on my taking leave of the gypsy, he had counselled +me to take with me. In the mean time, I sat by the fire listening to the +conversation of the company. + +“I would I were a wolf,” said one of the shepherds; “or, indeed, anything +rather than what I am. A pretty life is this of ours, out in the +_campo_, among the _carrascales_, suffering heat and cold for a _peseta_ +a day. I would I were a wolf; he fares better, and is more respected +than the wretch of a shepherd.” + +“But he frequently fares scurvily,” said I; “the shepherd and dogs fall +upon him, and then he pays for his temerity with the loss of his head.” + +“That is not often the case, _señor_ traveller,” said the shepherd; “he +watches his opportunity, and seldom runs into harm’s way. And as to +attacking him, it is no very pleasant task; he has both teeth and claws, +and dog or man, who has once felt them, likes not to venture a second +time within his reach. These dogs of mine will seize a bear singly with +considerable alacrity, though he is a most powerful animal; but I have +seen them run howling away from a wolf, even though there were two or +three of us at hand to encourage them.” + +“A dangerous person is the wolf,” said the other shepherd, “and cunning +as dangerous. Who knows more than he? He knows the vulnerable point of +every animal; see, for example, how he flies at the neck of a bullock, +tearing open the veins with his grim teeth and claws. But does he attack +a horse in this manner? I trow not.” + +“Not he,” said the other shepherd, “he is too good a judge; but he +fastens on the haunches, and hamstrings him in a moment. Oh, the fear of +the horse when he comes near the dwelling of the wolf! My master was the +other day riding in the _despoblado_, above the pass, on his fine +Andalusian steed, which had cost him five hundred dollars. Suddenly the +horse stopped, and sweated and trembled like a woman in the act of +fainting. My master could not conceive the reason, but presently he +heard a squealing and growling in the bushes, whereupon he fired off his +gun and scared the wolves, who scampered away; but he tells me, that the +horse has not yet recovered from his fright.” + +“Yet the mares know, occasionally, how to balk him,” replied his +companion. “There is great craft and malice in mares, as there is in all +females. See them feeding in the _campo_ with their young _cria_ about +them; presently the alarm is given that the wolf is drawing near; they +start wildly and run about for a moment, but it is only for a +moment—amain they gather together, forming themselves into a circle, in +the centre of which they place the foals. Onward comes the wolf, hoping +to make his dinner on horseflesh. He is mistaken, however; the mares +have balked him, and are as cunning as himself. Not a tail is to be +seen—not a hinder quarter—but there stand the whole troop, their fronts +towards him ready to receive him, and as he runs round them barking and +howling, they rise successively on their hind legs, ready to stamp him to +the earth, should he attempt to hurt their _cria_ or themselves.” + +“Worse than the he-wolf,” said the soldier, “is the female; for, as the +_señor pastor_ has well observed, there is more malice in women than in +males. To see one of these she-demons with a troop of the males at her +heels is truly surprising: where she turns they turn, and what she does +that do they; for they appear bewitched, and have no power but to imitate +her actions. I was once travelling with a comrade over the hills of +Galicia, when we heard a howl. ‘Those are wolves,’ said my companion; +‘let us get out of the way.’ So we stepped from the path and ascended +the side of the hill a little way, to a terrace, where grew vines, after +the manner of Galicia. Presently appeared a large grey she-wolf, +_deshonesta_, snapping and growling at a troop of demons, who followed +close behind, their tails uplifted, and their eyes like firebrands. What +do you think the perverse brute did? Instead of keeping to the path, she +turned in the very direction in which we were; there was now no remedy, +so we stood still. I was the first upon the terrace, and by me she +passed so close that I felt her hair brush against my legs; she, however, +took no notice of me, but pushed on, neither looking to the right nor +left, and all the other wolves trotted by me without offering the +slightest injury, or even so much as looking at me. Would that I could +say as much for my poor companion, who stood farther on, and was, I +believe, less in the demon’s way than I was; she had nearly passed him, +when suddenly she turned half round and snapped at him. I shall never +forget what followed: in a moment a dozen wolves were upon him, tearing +him limb from limb, with howlings like nothing in this world. In a few +moments he was devoured; nothing remained but the skull and a few bones; +and then they passed on in the same manner as they came. Good reason had +I to be grateful that my lady wolf took less notice of me than my poor +comrade.” + +Listening to this and similar conversation, I fell into a doze before the +fire, in which I continued for a considerable time, but was at length +roused by a voice exclaiming in a loud tone, “All are captured!” These +were the exact words which, when spoken by his daughter, confounded the +gypsy upon the moor. I looked around me. The company consisted of the +same individuals to whose conversation I had been listening before I sank +into slumber; but the beggar was now the spokesman, and he was haranguing +with considerable vehemence. + +“I beg your pardon, _Caballero_” said I, “but I did not hear the +commencement of your discourse. Who are those who have been captured?” + +“A band of accursed _Gitanos_, _Caballero_,” replied the beggar, +returning the title of courtesy which I had bestowed upon him. “During +more than a fortnight they have infested the roads on the frontier of +Castile, and many have been the gentlemen travellers like yourself whom +they have robbed and murdered. It would seem that the gypsy _canaille_ +must needs take advantage of these troublous times, and form themselves +into a faction. It is said that the fellows of whom I am speaking +expected many more of their brethren to join them, which is likely +enough, for all gypsies are thieves: but praised be God, they have been +put down before they became too formidable. I saw them myself conveyed +to the prison at ---. Thanks be to God. _Todos estan presos_.” {150a} + +“The mystery is now solved,” said I to myself, and proceeded to despatch +my supper, which was now ready. + +The next day’s journey brought me to a considerable town, the name of +which I have forgotten. It is the first in New Castile, in this +direction. {150b} I passed the night as usual in the manger of the +stable, close beside the _caballeria_; for, as I travelled upon a donkey, +I deemed it incumbent upon me to be satisfied with a couch in keeping +with my manner of journeying, being averse, by any squeamish and +over-delicate airs, to generate a suspicion amongst the people with whom +I mingled that I was aught higher than what my equipage and outward +appearance might lead them to believe. Rising before daylight, I again +proceeded on my way, hoping ere night to be able to reach Talavera, which +I was informed was ten leagues distant. The way lay entirely over an +unbroken level, for the most part covered with olive-trees. On the left, +however, at the distance of a few leagues, rose the mighty mountains +which I have already mentioned. They run eastward in a seemingly +interminable range, parallel with the route which I was pursuing; their +tops and sides were covered with dazzling snow, and the blasts which came +sweeping from them across the wide and melancholy plains were of bitter +keenness. + +“What mountains are those?” I inquired of a barber-surgeon who, mounted +like myself on a grey _burra_, joined me about noon, and proceeded in my +company for several leagues. “They have many names, _Caballero_,” +replied the barber; “according to the names of the neighbouring places, +so they are called. Yon portion of them is styled the Serrania of +Plasencia; and opposite to Madrid they are termed the Mountains of +Guadarrama, from a river of that name, which descends from them. They +run a vast way, _Caballero_, and separate the two kingdoms, for on the +other side is Old Castile. They are mighty mountains, and, though they +generate much cold, I take pleasure in looking at them, which is not to +be wondered at, seeing that I was born amongst them, though at present, +for my sins, I live in a village of the plain. _Caballero_, there is not +another such range in Spain; they have their secrets, too—their +mysteries. Strange tales are told of those hills, and of what they +contain in their deep recesses, for they are a broad chain, and you may +wander days and days amongst them without coming to any _termino_. Many +have lost themselves on those hills, and have never again been heard of. +Strange things are told of them: it is said that in certain places there +are deep pools and lakes, in which dwell monsters, huge serpents as long +as a pine-tree, and horses of the flood, which sometimes come out and +commit mighty damage. One thing is certain, that yonder, far away to the +west, in the heart of those hills, there is a wonderful valley, so narrow +that only at mid-day is the face of the sun to be descried from it. That +valley lay undiscovered and unknown for thousands of years; no person +dreamed of its existence. But at last, a long time ago, certain hunters +entered it by chance, and then what do you think they found, _Caballero_? +They found a small nation or tribe of unknown people, speaking an unknown +language, who, perhaps, had lived there since the creation of the world, +without intercourse with the rest of their fellow-creatures, and without +knowing that other beings besides themselves existed! _Caballero_, did +you never hear of the valley of the Batuecas? {152} Many books have been +written about that valley and those people. _Caballero_, I am proud of +yonder hills; and were I independent, and without wife or children, I +would purchase a _burra_ like that of your own—which I see is an +excellent one, and far superior to mine—and travel amongst them till I +knew all their mysteries, and had seen all the wondrous things which they +contain.” + +Throughout the day I pressed the _burra_ forward, only stopping once in +order to feed the animal; but, notwithstanding that she played her part +very well, night came on, and I was still about two leagues from +Talavera. As the sun went down, the cold became intense; I drew the old +gypsy cloak, which I still wore, closer around me, but I found it quite +inadequate to protect me from the inclemency of the atmosphere. The +road, which lay over a plain, was not very distinctly traced, and became +in the dusk rather difficult to find, more especially as cross-roads +leading to different places were of frequent occurrence. I, however, +proceeded in the best manner I could, and when I became dubious as to the +course which I should take, I invariably allowed the animal on which I +was mounted to decide. At length the moon shone out faintly, when +suddenly by its beams I beheld a figure moving before me at a slight +distance. I quickened the pace of the _burra_, and was soon close at its +side. It went on, neither altering its pace nor looking round for a +moment. It was the figure of a man, the tallest and bulkiest that I had +hitherto seen in Spain, dressed in a manner strange and singular for the +country. On his head was a hat with a low crown and broad brim, very +much resembling that of an English waggoner; about his body was a long +loose tunic or slop, seemingly of coarse ticken, {153} open in front, so +as to allow the interior garments to be occasionally seen. These +appeared to consist of a jerkin and short velveteen pantaloons. I have +said that the brim of the hat was broad, but broad as it was, it was +insufficient to cover an immense bush of coal-black hair, which, thick +and curly, projected on either side. Over the left shoulder was flung a +kind of satchel, and in the right hand was held a long staff or pole. + +There was something peculiarly strange about the figure; but what struck +me the most was the tranquillity with which it moved along, taking no +heed of me, though of course aware of my proximity, but looking straight +forward along the road, save when it occasionally raised a huge face and +large eyes towards the moon, which was now shining forth in the eastern +quarter. + +“A cold night,” said I at last. “Is this the way to Talavera?” + +“It is the way to Talavera, and the night is cold.” + +“I am going to Talavera,” said I, “as I suppose you are yourself.” + +“I am going thither, so are you, _bueno_.” + +The tones of the voice which delivered these words were in their way +quite as strange and singular as the figure to which the voice belonged. +They were not exactly the tones of a Spanish voice, and yet there was +something in them that could hardly be foreign; the pronunciation also +was correct, and the language, though singular, faultless. But I was +most struck with the manner in which the last word, _bueno_, was spoken. +I had heard something like it before, but where or when I could by no +means remember. {154} A pause now ensued, the figure stalking on as +before with the most perfect indifference, and seemingly with no +disposition either to seek or avoid conversation. + +“Are you not afraid,” said I at last, “to travel these roads in the dark? +It is said that there are robbers abroad.” + +“Are you not rather afraid,” replied the figure, “to travel these roads +in the dark?—you who are ignorant of the country, who are a foreigner, an +Englishman?” + +“How is it that you know me to be an Englishman?” demanded I, much +surprised. + +“That is no difficult matter,” replied the figure; “the sound of your +voice was enough to tell me that.” + +“You speak of voices,” said I; “suppose the tone of your own voice were +to tell me who you are?” + +“That it will not do,” replied my companion; “you know nothing about +me—you can know nothing about me. + +“Be not sure of that, my friend; I am acquainted with many things of +which you have little idea.” + +“_Por exemplo_,” said the figure. + +“For example,” said I, “you speak two languages.” + +The figure moved on, seemed to consider a moment and then said slowly, +“_Bueno_.” + +“You have two names,” I continued; “one for the house, and the other for +the street; both are good, but the one by which you are called at home is +the one which you like best.” + +The man walked on about ten paces, in the same manner as he had +previously done; all of a sudden he turned, and taking the bridle of the +_burra_ gently in his hand, stopped her. I had now a full view of his +face and figure, and those huge features and Herculean form still +occasionally revisit me in my dreams. I see him standing in the +moonshine, staring me in the face with his deep calm eyes. At last he +said— + +“Are you then _one of us_?” + + * * * * * + +It was late at night when we arrived at Talavera. We went to a large +gloomy house, which my companion informed me was the principle _posada_ +of the town. We entered the kitchen, at the extremity of which a large +fire was blazing. “Pepita,” {156a} said my companion to a handsome girl +who advanced smiling towards us, “a _brasero_ and a private apartment. +This cavalier is a friend of mine, and we shall sup together.” We were +shown to an apartment, in which were two alcoves containing beds. After +supper, which consisted of the very best, by the order of my companion, +we sat over the _brasero_, and commenced talking. + +_Myself_.—Of course you have conversed with Englishmen before, else you +could not have recognized me by the tone of my voice. + +_Abarbenel_. {156b}—I was a young lad when the war of the Independence +broke out, and there came to the village in which our family lived an +English officer, in order to teach discipline to the new levies. He was +quartered in my father’s house, where he conceived a great affection for +me. On his departure, with the consent of my father, I attended him +through both the Castiles, partly as companion, partly as domestic. I +was with him nearly a year, when he was suddenly summoned to return to +his own country. He would fain have taken me with him, but to that my +father would by no means consent. It is now five and twenty years since +I last saw an Englishman; but you have seen how I recognized you, even in +the dark night. + +_Myself_.—And what kind of life do you pursue, and by what means do you +obtain support? + +_Abarbenel_.—I experience no difficulty. I live much in the same way as +I believe my forefathers lived: certainly as my father did, for his +course has been mine. At his death I took possession of the _herencia_, +for I was his only child. It was not requisite that I should follow any +business, for my wealth was great; yet, to avoid remark, I followed that +of my father, who was a _longanizero_. I have occasionally dealt in +wool, but lazily—lazily—as I had no stimulus for exertion. I was, +however, successful; in many instances strangely so; much more than many +others who toiled day and night, and whose whole soul was in the trade. + +_Myself_.—Have you any children? Are you married? + +_Abarbenel_.—I have no children, though I am married. I have a wife, and +an _amiga_, or I should rather say two wives, for I am wedded to both. +{157a} I however call one my _amiga_, for appearance sake, for I wish to +live in quiet, and am unwilling to offend the prejudices of the +surrounding people. + +_Myself_.—You say you are wealthy. In what does your wealth consist? + +_Abarbenel_.—In gold and silver, and stones of price; for I have +inherited all the hoards of my forefathers. The greater part is buried +underground; indeed, I have never examined the tenth part of it. I have +coins of silver and gold older than the times of Ferdinand the Accursed +and Jezebel; {157b} I have also large sums employed in usury. We keep +ourselves close, however, and pretend to be poor, miserably so; but on +certain occasions, at our festivals, when our gates are barred, and our +savage dogs are let loose in the court, we eat our food off services such +as the Queen of Spain cannot boast of, and wash our feet in ewers of +silver, fashioned and wrought before the Americas were discovered, though +our garments are at all times coarse, and our food for the most part of +the plainest description. + +_Myself_.—Are there more of you than yourself and your two wives? + +_Abarbenel_.—There are my two servants, who are likewise of us—the one is +a youth, and is about to leave, being betrothed to one at some distance; +the other is old: he is now upon the road, following me with a mule and +car. + +_Myself_.—And whither are you bound at present? + +_Abarbenel_.—To Toledo, where I ply my trade occasionally of +_longanizero_. I love to wander about, though I seldom stray far from +home. Since I left the Englishman my feet have never once stepped beyond +the bounds of New Castile. I love to visit Toledo, and to think of the +times which have long since departed. I should establish myself there, +were there not so many accursed ones, who look upon me with an evil eye. + +_Myself_.—Are you known for what you are? Do the authorities molest you? + +_Abarbenel_.—People of course suspect me to be what I am; but as I +conform outwardly in most respects to their ways, they do not interfere +with me. True it is that sometimes, when I enter the church to hear the +mass, they glare at me over the left shoulder, as much as to say—“What do +you here?” And sometimes they cross themselves as I pass by; but as they +go no further, I do not trouble myself on that account. With respect to +the authorities, they are not bad friends of mine. Many of the higher +class have borrowed money from me on usury, so that I have them to a +certain extent in my power; and as for the low _alguazils_ and +_corchetes_, they would do anything to oblige me, in consideration of a +few dollars which I occasionally give them; so that matters upon the +whole go on remarkably well. Of old, indeed, it was far otherwise; yet, +I know not how it was, though other families suffered much, ours always +enjoyed a tolerable share of tranquillity. The truth is, that our family +has always known how to guide itself wonderfully. I may say there is +much of the wisdom of the snake amongst us. We have always possessed +friends; and with respect to enemies, it is by no means safe to meddle +with us, for it is a rule of our house never to forgive an injury, and to +spare neither trouble nor expense in bringing ruin and destruction upon +the heads of our evil-doers. + +_Myself_.—Do the priests interfere with you? + +_Abarbenel_.—They let me alone, especially in our own neighbourhood. +Shortly after the death of my father one hot-headed individual +endeavoured to do me an evil turn; but I soon requited him, causing him +to be imprisoned on a charge of blasphemy, and in prison he remained a +long time, till he went mad and died. + +_Myself_.—Have you a head in Spain, in whom is vested the chief +authority? + +_Abarbenel_.—Not exactly. There are, however, certain holy families who +enjoy much consideration; my own is one of these—the chiefest, I may say. +My grandsire was a particularly holy man; and I have heard my father say, +that one night an archbishop came to his house secretly, merely to have +the satisfaction of kissing his head. + +_Myself_.—How can that be? What reverence could an archbishop entertain +for one like yourself or your grandsire? + +_Abarbenel_.—More than you imagine. He was one of us, at least his +father was, and he could never forget what he had learned with reverence +in his infancy. He said he had tried to forget it, but he could not; +that the _ruah_ was continually upon him, and that even from his +childhood he had borne its terrors with a troubled mind, till at last he +could bear himself no longer; so he went to my grandsire, with whom he +remained one whole night; he then returned to his diocese, where he +shortly afterwards died, in much renown for sanctity. + +_Myself_.—What you say surprises me. Have you reason to suppose that +many of you are to be found amongst the priesthood? + +_Abarbenel_.—Not to suppose, but to know it. There are many such as I +amongst the priesthood, and not amongst the inferior priesthood either; +some of the most learned and famed of them in Spain have been of us, or +of our blood at least, and many of them at this day think as I do. There +is one particular festival of the year at which four dignified +ecclesiastics are sure to visit me; and then, when all is made close and +secure, and the fitting ceremonies have been gone through, they sit down +upon the floor and curse. + +_Myself_.—Are you numerous in the large towns? + +_Abarbenel_.—By no means; our places of abode are seldom the large towns; +we prefer the villages, and rarely enter the large towns but on business. +Indeed, we are not a numerous people, and there are few provinces of +Spain which contain more than twenty families. None of us are poor, and +those among us who serve, do so more from choice than necessity, for by +serving each other we acquire different trades. Not unfrequently the +time of service is that of courtship also, and the servants eventually +marry the daughters of the house. + +We continued in discourse the greater part of the night; the next morning +I prepared to depart. My companion, however, advised me to remain where +I was for that day. “And if you respect my counsel,” said he, “you will +not proceed farther in this manner. To-night the diligence will arrive +from Estremadura, on its way to Madrid. Deposit yourself therein; it is +the safest and most speedy mode of travelling. As for your animal, I +will myself purchase her. My servant is here, and has informed me that +she will be of service to us. Let us, therefore, pass the day together +in communion, like brothers, and then proceed on our separate journeys.” +We did pass the day together; and when the diligence arrived I deposited +myself within, and on the morning of the second day arrived at Madrid. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Lodging at Madrid—My Hostess—British +Ambassador—Mendizabal—Baltasar—Duties of a National—Young Blood—The +Execution—Population of Madrid—The Higher Orders—The Lower Classes—The +Bull-fighter—The Crabbed Gitano. + +It was the commencement of February, 1837, when I reached Madrid. After +staying a few days at a _posada_, I removed to a lodging which I engaged +at No. 3, in the Calle de la Zarza, {162} a dark dirty street, which, +however, was close to the Puerta del Sol, the most central point of +Madrid, into which four or five of the principal streets debouche, and +which is, at all times of the year, the great place of assemblage for the +idlers of the capital, poor or rich. + +It was rather a singular house in which I had taken up my abode. I +occupied the front part of the first floor; my apartments consisted of an +immense parlour, and a small chamber on one side in which I slept. The +parlour, notwithstanding its size, contained very little furniture: a few +chairs, a table, and a species of sofa, constituted the whole. It was +very cold and airy, owing to the draughts which poured in from three +large windows, and from sundry doors. The mistress of the house, +attended by her two daughters, ushered me in. “Did you ever see a more +magnificent apartment?” demanded the former; “is it not fit for a king’s +son? Last winter it was occupied by the great General Espartero.” {163} + +The hostess was an exceedingly fat woman, a native of Valladolid, in Old +Castile. “Have you any other family,” I demanded, “besides these +daughters?” “Two sons,” she replied; “one of them an officer in the +army, father of this urchin,” pointing to a wicked but clever-looking boy +of about twelve, who at that moment bounded into the room; “the other is +the most celebrated national in Madrid. He is a tailor by trade, and his +name is Baltasar. He has much influence with the other nationals, on +account of the liberality of his opinions, and a word from him is +sufficient to bring them all out armed and furious to the Puerta del Sol. +He is, however, at present confined to his bed, for he is very +dissipated, and fond of the company of bullfighters and people still +worse.” + +As my principal motive for visiting the Spanish capital was the hope of +obtaining permission from the government to print the New Testament in +the Castilian language, for circulation in Spain, I lost no time, upon my +arrival, in taking what I considered to be the necessary steps. + +I was an entire stranger at Madrid, and bore no letters of introduction +to any persons of influence who might have assisted me in this +undertaking, so that, notwithstanding I entertained a hope of success, +relying on the assistance of the Almighty, this hope was not at all times +very vivid, but was frequently overcast with the clouds of despondency. + +Mendizabal {164a} was at this time prime minister of Spain, and was +considered as a man of almost unbounded power, in whose hands were placed +the destinies of the country. I therefore considered that if I could by +any means induce him to favour my views, I should have no reason to fear +interruption from other quarters, and I determined upon applying to him. + +Before taking this step, however, I deemed it advisable to wait upon Mr. +Villiers, {164b} the British ambassador at Madrid, and, with the freedom +permitted to a British subject, to ask his advice in this affair. I was +received with great kindness, and enjoyed a conversation with him on +various subjects before I introduced the matter which I had most at +heart. He said that if I wished for an interview with Mendizabal he +would endeavour to procure me one, but, at the same time, told me frankly +that he could not hope that any good would arise from it, as he knew him +to be violently prejudiced against the British and Foreign Bible Society, +and was far more likely to discountenance than encourage any efforts +which they might be disposed to make for introducing the Gospel into +Spain. I, however, remained resolute in my desire to make the trial, and +before I left him obtained a letter of introduction to Mendizabal. + +Early one morning I repaired to the palace, in a wing of which was the +office of the prime minister. It was bitterly cold, and the Guadarrama, +of which there is a noble view from the palace plain, was covered with +snow. For at least three hours I remained shivering with cold in an +anteroom, with several other aspirants for an interview with the man of +power. At last his private secretary made his appearance, and after +putting various questions to the others, addressed himself to me, asking +who I was and what I wanted. I told him that I was an Englishman, and +the bearer of a letter from the British Minister. “If you have no +objection, I will myself deliver it to his Excellency,” said he; +whereupon I handed it to him, and he withdrew. Several individuals were +admitted before me; at last, however, my own turn came, and I was ushered +into the presence of Mendizabal. + +He stood behind a table covered with papers, on which his eyes were +intently fixed. He took not the slightest notice when I entered, and I +had leisure enough to survey him. He was a huge athletic man, somewhat +taller than myself, who measure six feet two without my shoes. His +complexion was florid, his features fine and regular, his nose quite +aquiline, and his teeth splendidly white; though scarcely fifty years of +age, his hair was remarkably grey. He was dressed in a rich morning +gown, with a gold chain round his neck, and morocco slippers on his feet. + +His secretary, a fine intellectual-looking man, who, as I was +subsequently informed, had acquired a name both in English and Spanish +literature, {166a} stood at one end of the table with papers in his +hands. + +After I had been standing about a quarter of an hour, Mendizabal suddenly +lifted up a pair of sharp eyes, and fixed them upon me with a peculiarly +scrutinizing glance. + +“I have seen a glance very similar to that amongst the Beni Israel,” +{166b} thought I to myself. . . . + +My interview with him lasted nearly an hour. Some singular discourse +passed between us. I found him, as I had been informed, a bitter enemy +to the Bible Society, of which he spoke in terms of hatred and contempt; +and by no means a friend to the Christian religion, which I could easily +account for. I was not discouraged, however, and pressed upon him the +matter which brought me thither, and was eventually so far successful as +to obtain a promise, that at the expiration of a few months, when he +hoped the country would be in a more tranquil state, I should be allowed +to print the Scriptures. + +As I was going away he said, “Yours is not the first application I have +had: ever since I have held the reins of government I have been pestered +in this manner by English, calling themselves Evangelical Christians, who +have of late come flocking over into Spain. Only last week a hunchbacked +fellow found his way into my cabinet whilst I was engaged in important +business, and told me that Christ was coming. . . . And now you have +made your appearance, and almost persuaded me to embroil myself yet more +with the priesthood, as if they did not abhor me enough already. What a +strange infatuation is this which drives you over lands and waters with +Bibles in your hands! My good sir, it is not Bibles we want, but rather +guns and gunpowder to put the rebels down with, and, above all, money, +that we may pay the troops. Whenever you come with these three things +you shall have a hearty welcome; if not, we really can dispense with your +visits, however great the honour.” + +_Myself_.—There will be no end to the troubles of this afflicted country +until the Gospel have free circulation. + +_Mendizabal_.—I expected that answer, for I have not lived thirteen years +in England without forming some acquaintance with the phraseology of you +good folks. Now, now, pray go; you see how engaged I am. Come again +whenever you please, but let it not be within the next three months. + +“_Don Jorge_,” said my hostess, coming into my apartment one morning, +whilst I sat at breakfast, with my feet upon the _brasero_, “here is my +son Baltasarito, the national. He has risen from his bed, and hearing +that there is an Englishman in the house, he has begged me to introduce +him, for he loves Englishmen on account of the liberality of their +opinions. There he is; what do you think of him?” + +I did not state to his mother what I thought; it appeared to me, however, +that she was quite right in calling him Baltasarito, which is the +diminutive of Baltasar, forasmuch as that ancient and sonorous name had +certainly never been bestowed on a more diminutive personage. He might +measure about five feet one inch, though he was rather corpulent for his +height; his face looked yellow and sickly; he had, however, a kind of +fanfaronading air, and his eyes, which were of dark brown, were both +sharp and brilliant. His dress, or rather his undress, was somewhat +shabby: he had a foraging cap on his head, and in lieu of a morning gown +he wore a sentinel’s old great-coat. + +“I am glad to make your acquaintance, _señor nacional_,” said I to him, +after his mother had departed and Baltasar had taken his seat, and of +course lighted a paper cigar {168} at the _brasero_. “I am glad to have +made your acquaintance, more especially as your lady-mother has informed +me that you have great influence with the nationals. I am a stranger in +Spain, and may want a friend; fortune has been kind to me in procuring me +one who is a member of so powerful a body.” + +_Baltasar_.—Yes, I have a great deal to say with the other nationals; +there is none in Madrid better known than Baltasar, or more dreaded by +the Carlists. You say you may stand in need of a friend; there is no +fear of my failing you in any emergency. Both myself and any of the +other nationals will be proud to go out with you as _padrinos_, should +you have any affair of honour on your hands. But why do you not become +one of us? We would gladly receive you into our body. + +_Myself_.—Is the duty of a national particularly hard? + +_Baltasar_.—By no means. We have to do duty about once every fifteen +days, and then there is occasionally a review, which does not last long. +No! the duties of a national are by no means onerous, and the privileges +are great. I have seen three of my brother nationals walk up and down +the Prado of a Sunday, with sticks in their hands, cudgelling all the +suspicious characters; and it is our common practice to scour the streets +at night, and then if we meet any person who is obnoxious to us, we fall +upon him, and with a knife or a bayonet generally leave him wallowing in +his blood on the pavement. No one but a national would be permitted to +do that. + +_Myself_.—Of course none but persons of liberal opinions are to be found +amongst the nationals? + +_Baltasar_.—Would it were so! There are some amongst us, _Don Jorge_, +who are no better than they should be; they are few, however, and for the +most part well known. Theirs is no pleasant life, for when they mount +guard with the rest they are scouted, and not unfrequently cudgelled. +The law compels all of a certain age either to serve in the army or to +become national soldiers, on which account some of these _Godos_ are to +be found amongst us. + +_Myself_.—Are there many in Madrid of the Carlist opinion? + +_Baltasar_.—Not among the young people; the greater part of the +Madrilenian Carlists capable of bearing arms departed long ago to join +the ranks of the factious in the Basque provinces. Those who remain are +for the most part greybeards and priests, good for nothing but to +assemble in private coffee-houses, and to prate treason together. Let +them prate, _Don Jorge_; let them prate; the destinies of Spain do not +depend on the wishes of _ojalateros_ and _pasteleros_, {169} but on the +hands of stout, gallant nationals, like myself and friends, _Don Jorge_. + +_Myself_.—I am sorry to learn from your lady-mother that you are +strangely dissipated. + +_Baltasar_.—Ho, ho, _Don Jorge_, she has told you that, has she? What +would you have, _Don Jorge_? I am young, and young blood will have its +course. I am called Baltasar the gay by all the other nationals, and it +is on account of my gaiety and the liberality of my opinions that I am so +popular among them. When I mount guard I invariably carry my guitar with +me, and then there is sure to be a _funcion_ at the guard-house. We send +for wine, _Don Jorge_, and the nationals become wild, _Don Jorge_, +dancing and drinking through the night, whilst Baltasarito strums the +guitar and sings them songs of _Germanía_:— {170a} + + “Una romí sin pachí + Le penó á su chindomar,” {170b} etc., etc. + +That is _Gitano_, _Don Jorge_; I learnt it from the _toreros_ of +Andalusia, who all speak _Gitano_, and are mostly of gypsy blood. I +learnt it from them; they are all friends of mine, Montes, Sevilla, and +Poquito Pan. {170c} I never miss a _funcion_ of bulls, _Don Jorge_. +Baltasar is sure to be there with his _amiga_. _Don Jorge_, there are no +bull-funcions in the winter, or I would carry you to one, but happily +to-morrow there is an execution, a _funcion de la horca_; {171} and there +we will go, _Don Jorge_. + +We did go to see this execution, which I shall long remember. The +criminals were two young men, brothers; they suffered for a most +atrocious murder, having in the dead of night broken open the house of an +aged man, whom they put to death, and whose property they stole. +Criminals in Spain are not hanged as they are in England, or guillotined +as in France, but strangled upon a wooden stage. They sit down on a kind +of chair with a post behind, to which is affixed an iron collar with a +screw; this iron collar is made to clasp the neck of the prisoner, and on +a certain signal it is drawn tighter and tighter by means of the screw, +until life becomes extinct. After we had waited amongst the assembled +multitude a considerable time, the first of the culprits appeared; he was +mounted on an ass without saddle or stirrups, his legs being allowed to +dangle nearly to the ground. He was dressed in yellow, sulphur-coloured +robes, with a high-peaked conical red hat on his head, which was shaven. +Between his hands he held a parchment, on which was written something—I +believe the confession of faith. Two priests led the animal by the +bridle; two others walked on either side, chanting litanies, amongst +which I distinguished the words of heavenly peace and tranquillity, for +the culprit had been reconciled to the church, had confessed and received +absolution, and had been promised admission to heaven. He did not +exhibit the least symptom of fear, but dismounted from the animal and was +led, not supported, up the scaffold, where he was placed on the chair, +and the fatal collar put round his neck. One of the priests then in a +loud voice commenced saying the Belief, and the culprit repeated the +words after him. On a sudden, the executioner, who stood behind, +commenced turning the screw, which was of prodigious force, and the +wretched man was almost instantly a corpse; but, as the screw went round, +the priest began to shout, “_pax et misericordia et tranquillitas_,” +{172} and still as he shouted, his voice became louder and louder, till +the lofty walls of Madrid rang with it. Then stooping down, he placed +his mouth close to the culprit’s ear, still shouting, just as if he would +pursue the spirit through its course to eternity, cheering it on its way. +The effect was tremendous. I myself was so excited that I involuntarily +shouted, “_Misericordia_,” and so did many others. God was not thought +of; Christ was not thought of; only the priest was thought of, for he +seemed at that moment to be the first being in existence, and to have the +power of opening and shutting the gates of heaven or of hell, just as he +should think proper—a striking instance of the successful working of the +Popish system, whose grand aim has ever been to keep people’s minds as +far as possible from God, and to centre their hopes and fears in the +priesthood. The execution of the second culprit was precisely similar; +he ascended the scaffold a few minutes after his brother had breathed his +last. + +I have visited most of the principal capitals of the world, but upon the +whole none has ever so interested me as this city of Madrid, in which I +now found myself. I will not dwell upon its streets, its edifices, its +public squares, its fountains, though some of these are remarkable +enough; but Petersburg has finer streets, Paris and Edinburgh more +stately edifices, London far nobler squares, whilst Shiraz can boast of +more costly fountains, though not cooler waters. But the population! +Within a mud wall scarcely one league and a half in circuit, are +contained two hundred thousand human beings, certainly forming the most +extraordinary vital mass to be found in the entire world; and be it +always remembered that this mass is strictly Spanish. The population of +Constantinople is extraordinary enough, but to form it twenty nations +have contributed—Greeks, Armenians, Persians, Poles, Jews, the latter, +by-the-by, of Spanish origin, and speaking amongst themselves the old +Spanish language; but the huge population of Madrid, with the exception +of a sprinkling of foreigners, chiefly French tailors, glove-makers, and +_perruquiers_, is strictly Spanish, though a considerable portion are not +natives of the place. Here are no colonies of Germans, as at Saint +Petersburg; no English factories, as at Lisbon; no multitudes of insolent +Yankees lounging through the streets, as at the Havannah, with an air +which seems to say, “The land is our own whenever we choose to take it;” +but a population which, however strange and wild, and composed of various +elements, is Spanish, and will remain so as long as the city itself shall +exist. Hail, ye _aguadores_ of Asturia! who, in your dress of coarse +duffel and leathern skull-caps, are seen seated in hundreds by the +fountain sides, upon your empty water-casks, or staggering with them +filled to the topmost stories of lofty houses. Hail, ye _caleseros_ of +Valencia! who, lolling lazily against your vehicles, rasp tobacco for +your paper cigars whilst waiting for a fare. Hail to you, beggars of La +Mancha! men and women, who, wrapped in coarse blankets, demand charity +indifferently at the gate of the palace or the prison. Hail to you, +valets from the mountains, _mayordomos_ and secretaries from Biscay and +Guipuzcoa, _toreros_ from Andalusia, _reposteros_ from Galicia, +shopkeepers from Catalonia! Hail to ye, Castilians, Estremenians, and +Aragonese, of whatever calling! And lastly, genuine sons of the capital, +rabble of Madrid, ye twenty thousand _manolos_, {174a} whose terrible +knives, on the second morning of May, {174b} worked such grim havoc +amongst the legions of Murat! + +And the higher orders—the ladies and gentlemen, the cavaliers and +_señoras_—shall I pass them by in silence? The truth is I have little to +say about them; I mingled but little in their society, and what I saw of +them by no means tended to exalt them in my imagination. I am not one of +those who, wherever they go, make it a constant practice to disparage the +higher orders, and to exalt the populace at their expense. There are +many capitals in which the high aristocracy, the lords and ladies, the +sons and daughters of nobility, constitute the most remarkable and the +most interesting part of the population. This is the case at Vienna, and +more especially at London. Who can rival the English aristocrat in lofty +stature, in dignified bearing, in strength of hand, and valour of heart? +Who rides a nobler horse? Who has a firmer seat? And who more lovely +than his wife, or sister, or daughter? But with respect to the Spanish +aristocracy, the ladies and gentlemen, the cavaliers and _señoras_, I +believe the less that is said of them on the points to which I have just +alluded the better. I confess, however, that I know little about them; +they have, perhaps, their admirers, and to the pens of such I leave their +panegyric. Le Sage has described them as they were nearly two centuries +ago. His description is anything but captivating, and I do not think +that they have improved since the period of the sketches of the immortal +Frenchman. I would sooner talk of the lower class, not only of Madrid, +but of all Spain. The Spaniard of the lower class has much more interest +for me, whether _manolo_, labourer, or muleteer. He is not a common +being; he is an extraordinary man. He has not, it is true, the +amiability and generosity of the Russian _mujik_, who will give his only +_rouble_ rather than the stranger shall want; nor his placid courage, +which renders him insensible to fear, and, at the command of his Tsar, +sends him singing to certain death. {175} There is more hardness and +less self-devotion in the disposition of the Spaniard; he possesses, +however, a spirit of proud independence, which it is impossible but to +admire. He is ignorant, of course; but it is singular, that I have +invariably found amongst the low and slightly educated classes far more +liberality of sentiment than amongst the upper. It has long been the +fashion to talk of the bigotry of the Spaniards, and their mean jealousy +of foreigners. This is true to a certain extent; but it chiefly holds +good with respect to the upper classes. If foreign valour or talent has +never received its proper meed in Spain, the great body of the Spaniards +are certainly not in fault. I have heard Wellington calumniated in this +proud scene of his triumphs, but never by the old soldiers of Aragon and +the Asturias, who assisted to vanquish the French at Salamanca and the +Pyrenees. I have heard the manner of riding of an English jockey +criticized, but it was by the idiotic heir of Medina Celi, and not by a +_picador_ of the Madrilenian bull-ring. + +Apropos of bull-fighters:—Shortly after my arrival, I one day entered a +low tavern in a neighbourhood notorious for robbery and murder, and in +which for the last two hours I had been wandering on a voyage of +discovery. I was fatigued, and required refreshment. I found the place +thronged with people, who had all the appearance of ruffians. I saluted +them, upon which they made way for me to the bar, taking off their +_sombreros_ with great ceremony. I emptied a glass of _val de peñas_, +and was about to pay for it and depart, when a horrible-looking fellow, +dressed in a buff jerkin, leather breeches, and jackboots, which came +halfway up his thighs, and having on his head a white hat, the rims of +which were at least a yard and a half in circumference, pushed through +the crowd, and confronting me, roared:— + +“_Otra copita_! _vamos Inglesito_: _Otra copita_!” {176} + +“Thank you, my good sir, you are very kind. You appear to know me, but I +have not the honour of knowing you.” + +“Not know me!” replied the being. “I am Sevilla, the _torero_. I know +you well; you are the friend of Baltasarito, the national, who is a +friend of mine, and a very good subject.” + +Then turning to the company, he said in a sonorous tone, laying a strong +emphasis on the last syllable of every word, according to the custom of +the _gente rufianesca_ throughout Spain— + +“Cavaliers, and strong men, this cavalier is the friend of a friend of +mine. _Es mucho hombre_. {177a} There is none like him in Spain. He +speaks the crabbed _Gitano_, though he is an _Inglesito_.” + +“We do not believe it,” replied several grave voices. “It is not +possible.” + +“It is not possible, say you? I tell you it is. Come forward, Balseiro, +you who have been in prison all your life, and are always boasting that +you can speak the crabbed _Gitano_, though I say you know nothing of +it—come forward and speak to his worship in the crabbed _Gitano_.” + +A low, slight, but active figure stepped forward. He was in his +shirt-sleeves, and wore a _montero_ cap; {177b} his features were +handsome, but they were those of a demon. + +He spoke a few words in the broken gypsy slang of the prison, inquiring +of me whether I had ever been in the condemned cell, and whether I knew +what a _Gitana_ {177c} was. + +“_Vamos Inglesito_,” shouted Sevilla, in a voice of thunder; “answer the +_monró_ in the crabbed _Gitano_.” + +I answered the robber, for such he was, and one too whose name will live +for many a year in the ruffian histories of Madrid; I answered him in a +speech of some length, in the dialect of the Estremenian gypsies. + +“I believe it is the crabbed _Gitano_,” muttered Balseiro. “It is either +that or English, for I understand not a word of it.” + +“Did I not say to you,” cried the bull-fighter, “that you knew nothing of +the crabbed _Gitano_? But this _Inglesito_ does. I understood all he +said. _Vaya_, there is none like him for the crabbed _Gitano_. He is a +good _ginete_, too; next to myself, there is none like him, only he rides +with stirrup leathers too short. {178} _Inglesito_, if you have need of +money, I will lend you my purse. All I have is at your service, and that +is not a little; I have just gained four thousand _chulés_ by the +lottery. Courage, Englishman! Another cup. I will pay all—I, Sevilla!” + +And he clapped his hand repeatedly on his breast, reiterating, “I, +Sevilla! I—” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Intrigues at Court—Quesada and Galiano—Dissolution of the Cortes—The +Secretary—Aragonese Pertinacity—The Council of Trent—The Asturian—The +Three Thieves—Benedict Mol—The Men of Lucerne—The Treasure. + +Mendizabal had told me to call upon him again at the end of three months, +giving me hopes that he would not then oppose himself to the publication +of the New Testament; before, however, the three months had elapsed, he +had fallen into disgrace, and had ceased to be prime minister. + +An intrigue had been formed against him, at the head of which were two +quondam friends of his, and fellow-townsmen, Gaditanians, Isturitz, and +Alcala Galiano. Both of them had been egregious liberals in their day, +and indeed principal members of those Cortes which, on the Angoulême +invasion, had hurried Ferdinand from Madrid to Cadiz, and kept him +prisoner there until that impregnable town thought proper to surrender, +and both of them had been subsequently refugees in England, where they +had spent a considerable number of years. + +These gentlemen, however, finding themselves about this time exceedingly +poor, and not seeing any immediate prospect of advantage from supporting +Mendizabal—considering themselves, moreover, quite as good men as he, and +as capable of governing Spain in the present emergency—determined to +secede from the party of their friend, whom they had hitherto supported, +and to set up for themselves. + +They therefore formed an opposition to Mendizabal in the Cortes; the +members of this opposition assumed the name of _moderados_, in +contradistinction to Mendizabal and his followers, who were +ultra-liberals. The _moderados_ were encouraged by the Queen Regent +Christina, who aimed at a little more power than the liberals were +disposed to allow her, and who had a personal dislike to the minister. +They were likewise encouraged by Cordova, {180a} who at that time +commanded the army, and was displeased with Mendizabal, inasmuch as the +latter did not supply the pecuniary demands of the general with +sufficient alacrity, though it is said that the greater part of what was +sent for the payment of the troops was not devoted to that purpose, but +was invested in the French funds in the name and for the use and behoof +of the said Cordova. + +It is, however, by no means my intention to write an account of the +political events which were passing around me at this period; suffice it +to say that Mendizabal, finding himself thwarted in all his projects by +the Regent and the general, the former of whom would adopt no measure +which he recommended, whilst the latter remained inactive, and refused to +engage the enemy, which by this time had recovered from the check caused +by the death of Zumalacarregui, {180b} and was making considerable +progress, resigned, and left the field, for the time, open to his +adversaries, though he possessed an immense majority in the Cortes, and +had the voice of the nation, at least the liberal part of it, in his +favour. + +Thereupon {181a} Isturitz {181b} became head of the cabinet, Galiano +minister of marine, and a certain Duke of Rivas minister of the interior. +These were the heads of the _moderado_ government; but as they were by no +means popular at Madrid, and feared the nationals, they associated with +themselves one who hated the latter body, and feared nothing, a man of +the name of Quesada—a very stupid individual, but a great fighter, who, +at one period of his life, had commanded a legion or body of men called +the Army of the Faith, whose exploits, both on the French and Spanish +side of the Pyrenees, are too well known to require recapitulation. This +person was made captain-general of Madrid. {181c} + +By far the most clever member of this government was Galiano, whose +acquaintance I had formed shortly after my arrival. He was a man of +considerable literature, and particularly well versed in that of his own +country. He was, moreover, a fluent, elegant, and forcible speaker, and +was to the _moderado_ party within the Cortes what Quesada was without, +namely, their horses and chariots. Why he was made minister of marine is +difficult to say, as Spain did not possess any; perhaps, however, from +his knowledge of the English language, which he spoke and wrote nearly as +well as his own tongue, having, indeed, during his sojourn in England, +chiefly supported himself by writing for reviews and journals,—an +honourable occupation, but to which few foreign exiles in England would +be qualified to devote themselves. + +He was a very small and irritable man, and a bitter enemy to every person +who stood in the way of his advancement. He hated Mendizabal with +undisguised rancour, and never spoke of him but in terms of unmeasured +contempt. “I am afraid that I shall have some difficulty in inducing +Mendizabal to give me permission to print the Testament,” said I to him +one day. “Mendizabal is a jackass,” replied Galiano. “Caligula made his +horse consul, which I suppose induced Lord --- to send over this huge +_burro_ of the Stock Exchange to be our minister.” + +It would be very ungrateful, on my part, were I not to confess my great +obligations to Galiano, who assisted me to the utmost of his power in the +business which had brought me to Spain. Shortly after the ministry was +formed, I went to him and said, “that now or never was the time to make +an effort in my behalf.” “I will do so,” said he, in a waspish tone; for +he always spoke waspishly whether to friend or foe; “but you must have +patience for a few days; we are very much occupied at present. We have +been out-voted in the Cortes, and this afternoon we intend to dissolve +them. It is believed that the rascals will refuse to depart, but Quesada +will stand at the door ready to turn them out, should they prove +refractory. Come along, and you will perhaps see a _funcion_.” + +After an hour’s debate, the Cortes were dissolved without it being +necessary to call in the aid of the redoubtable Quesada, and Galiano +forthwith gave me a letter to his colleague, the Duke of Rivas, in whose +department he told me was vested the power either of giving or refusing +the permission to print the book in question. The duke was a very +handsome young man, of about thirty, an Andalusian by birth, like his two +colleagues. He had published several works—tragedies, I believe—and +enjoyed a certain kind of literary reputation. He received me with the +greatest affability; and having heard what I had to say, he replied with +a most captivating bow, and a genuine Andalusian grimace: “Go to my +secretary; go to my secretary—_el hará por usted el gusto_.” {183} So I +went to the secretary, whose name was Oliban, an Aragonese, who was not +handsome, and whose manners were neither elegant nor affable. “You want +permission to print the Testament?” “I do,” said I. “And you have come +to his Excellency about it?” continued Oliban. “Very true,” I replied. +“I suppose you intend to print it without notes?” “Yes.” “Then his +Excellency cannot give you permission,” said the Aragonese secretary. +“It was determined by the Council of Trent that no part of the Scripture +should be printed in any Christian country without the notes of the +church.” “How many years was that ago?” I demanded. “I do not know how +many years ago it was,” said Oliban; “but such was the decree of the +Council of Trent.” “Is Spain at present governed according to the +decrees of the Council of Trent?” I inquired. “In some points she is,” +answered the Aragonese, “and this is one. But tell me, who are you? Are +you known to the British minister?” “Oh yes, and he takes a great +interest in the matter.” “Does he?” said Oliban; “that indeed alters the +case: if you can show me that his Excellency takes an interest in this +business, I certainly shall not oppose myself to it.” + +The British minister performed all I could wish, and much more than I +could expect. He had an interview with the Duke of Rivas, with whom he +had much discourse upon my affair: the duke was all smiles and courtesy. +He moreover wrote a private letter to the duke, which he advised me to +present when I next paid him a visit; and, to crown all, he wrote a +letter directed to myself, in which he did me the honour to say, that he +had a regard for me, and that nothing would afford him greater pleasure +than to hear that I had obtained the permission which I was seeking. So +I went to the duke, and delivered the letter. He was ten times more kind +and affable than before: he read the letter, smiled most sweetly, and +then, as if seized with sudden enthusiasm, he extended his arms in a +manner almost theatrical, exclaiming, “_Al secretario_, _el hará por +usted el gusto_.” Away I hurried to the secretary, who received me with +all the coolness of an icicle. I related to him the words of his +principal, and then put into his hand the letter of the British minister +to myself. The secretary read it very deliberately, and then said that +it was evident his Excellency “did take an interest in the matter.” He +then asked me my name, and, taking a sheet of paper, sat down as if for +the purpose of writing the permission. I was in ecstasy. All of a +sudden, however, he stopped, lifted up his head, seemed to consider a +moment, and then, putting his pen behind his ear, he said, “Amongst the +decrees of the Council of Trent is one to the effect . . .” + +“Oh dear!” said I. + +“A singular person is this Oliban,” said I to Galiano; “you cannot +imagine what trouble he gives me; he is continually talking about the +Council of Trent.” + +“I wish he was in the Trent up to the middle,” said Galiano, who, as I +have observed already, spoke excellent English; “I wish he was there for +talking such nonsense. However,” said he, “we must not offend Oliban—he +is one of us, and has done us much service; he is, moreover, a very +clever man, but he is an Aragonese, and when one of that nation once gets +an idea into his head, it is the most difficult thing in the world to +dislodge it. However, we will go to him. He is an old friend of mine, +and I have no doubt but that we shall be able to make him listen to +reason.” + +So the next day I called upon Galiano, at his marine or admiralty office +(what shall I call it?), and from thence we proceeded to the bureau of +the interior, a magnificent edifice, which had formerly been the _casa_ +of the Inquisition, where we had an interview with Oliban, whom Galiano +took aside to the window, and there held with him a long conversation, +which, as they spoke in whispers, and the room was immensely large, I did +not hear. At length Galiano came to me, and said, “There is some +difficulty with respect to this business of yours, but I have told Oliban +that you are a friend of mine, and he says that that is sufficient; +remain with him now, and he will do anything to oblige you. Your affair +is settled—farewell.” Whereupon he departed, and I remained with Oliban, +who proceeded forthwith to write something, which having concluded, he +took out a box of cigars, and having lighted one and offered me another, +which I declined, as I do not smoke, he placed his feet against the +table, and thus proceeded to address me, speaking in the French language. + +“It is with great pleasure that I see you in this capital, and, I may +say, upon this business. I consider it a disgrace to Spain that there is +no edition of the Gospel in circulation, at least such a one as would be +within the reach of all classes of society, the highest or poorest; one +unencumbered with notes and commentaries, human devices, swelling it to +an unwieldy bulk. I have no doubt that such an edition as you propose to +print would have a most beneficial influence on the minds of the people, +who, between ourselves, know nothing of pure religion; how should they? +seeing that the Gospel has always been sedulously kept from them, just as +if civilization could exist where the light of the Gospel beameth not. +The moral regeneration of Spain depends upon the free circulation of the +Scriptures; to which alone England, your own happy country, is indebted +for its high state of civilization and the unmatched prosperity which it +at present enjoys. All this I admit, in fact reason compels me to do so, +but—” + +“Now for it,” thought I. + +“Bu—” And then he began to talk once more of the wearisome Council of +Trent and I found that his writing in the paper, the offer of the cigar, +and the long and prosy harangue were—what shall I call it?—mere φλυαρία. +{186} + +By this time the spring was far advanced; the sides, though not the tops, +of the Guadarrama hills had long since lost their snows; the trees of the +Prado had donned their full foliage, and all the _campiña_ in the +neighbourhood of Madrid smiled and was happy. The summer heats had not +commenced, and the weather was truly delicious. + +Towards the west, at the foot of the hill on which stands Madrid, is a +canal running parallel with the Manzanares for some leagues, from which +it is separated by pleasant and fertile meadows. The banks of this +canal, which was begun by Carlos Tercero {187} and has never been +completed, are planted with beautiful trees, and form the most delightful +walk in the neighbourhood of the capital. Here I would loiter for hours, +looking at the shoals of gold and silver fish which basked on the surface +of the green sunny waters, or listening, not to the warbling of birds—for +Spain is not the land of feathered choristers—but to the prattle of the +_narangero_, or man who sold oranges and water by a little deserted +water-tower just opposite the wooden bridge that crosses the canal, which +situation he had chosen as favourable for his trade, and there had placed +his stall. He was an Asturian by birth, about fifty years of age, and +about five feet high. As I purchased freely of his fruit, he soon +conceived a great friendship for me, and told me his history; it +contained, however, nothing very remarkable, the leading incident being +an adventure which had befallen him amidst the mountains of Granada, +where, falling into the hands of certain gypsies, they stripped him +naked, and then dismissed him with a sound cudgelling. “I have wandered +throughout Spain,” said he, “and I have come to the conclusion that there +are but two places worth living in, Malaga and Madrid. At Malaga +everything is very cheap, and there is such an abundance of fish, that I +have frequently seen them piled in heaps on the seashore; and as for +Madrid, money is always stirring at the Corte, and I never go supperless +to bed. My only care is to sell my oranges, and my only hope that when I +die I shall be buried yonder.” And he pointed across the Manzanares, +where, on the declivity of a gentle hill, at about a league’s distance, +shone brightly in the sunshine the white walls of the _Campo Santo_, or +common burying-ground of Madrid. + +He was a fellow of infinite drollery, and, though he could scarcely read +or write, by no means ignorant of the ways of the world: his knowledge of +individuals was curious and extensive, few people passing his stall with +whose names, character, and history he was not acquainted. “These two +gentry,” said he, pointing to a magnificently dressed cavalier and lady, +who had dismounted from a carriage, and arm-in-arm were coming across the +wooden bridge, followed by two attendants; “those gentry are the +_Infante_ Francisco Paulo, and his wife the _Neapolitana_, sister of our +Christina. He is a very good subject, but as for his wife—_vaya_—the +veriest scold in Madrid; she can say _carrajo_ with the most +ill-conditioned carrier of La Mancha, giving the true emphasis and +genuine pronunciation. Don’t take off your hat to her, amigo—she has +neither formality nor politeness; I once saluted her, and she took no +more notice of me than if I had not been what I am, an Asturian and a +gentleman, of better blood than herself. Good day, _Señor Don_ +Francisco. _Que tal_. {188} Very fine weather this—_vaya su merced con +Dios_. Those three fellows, who just stopped to drink water, are great +thieves, true sons of the prison. I am always civil to them, for it +would not do to be on ill terms; they pay me or not, just as they think +proper. I have been in some trouble on their account: about a year ago +they robbed a man a little farther on beyond the second bridge. By the +way, I counsel you, brother, not to go there, as I believe you often do; +it is a dangerous place. They robbed a gentleman and ill-treated him, +but his brother, who was an _escribano_, was soon upon their trail, and +had them arrested; but he wanted some one to identify them, and it +chanced that they had stopped to drink water at my stall, just as they +did now. This the _escribano_ heard of, and forthwith had me away to +prison to confront me with them. I knew them well enough, but I had +learnt in my travels when to close my eyes and when to open them; so I +told the _escribano_ that I could not say that I had ever seen them +before. He was in a great rage, and threatened to imprison me; I told +him he might, and that I cared not. _Vaya_, I was not going to expose +myself to the resentment of those three and to that of their friends; I +live too near the Hay Market for that. Good day, my young masters. +Murcian oranges, as you see; the genuine dragon’s blood. Water sweet and +cold. Those two boys are the children of Gabiria, comptroller of the +queen’s household, and the richest man in Madrid; they are nice boys, and +buy much fruit. It is said their father loves them more than all his +possessions. The old woman who is lying beneath yon tree is the _Tia_ +Lucilla; she has committed murders, and as she owes me money, I hope one +day to see her executed. This man was of the Walloon guard—_Señor Don_ +Benito Mol, how do you do?” + +This last-named personage instantly engrossed my attention. He was a +bulky old man, somewhat above the middle height, with white hair and +ruddy features; his eyes were large and blue, and, whenever he fixed them +on any one’s countenance, were full of an expression of great eagerness, +as if he were expecting the communication of some important tidings. He +was dressed commonly enough in a jacket and trousers of coarse cloth of a +russet colour; on his head was an immense _sombrero_, the brim of which +had been much cut and mutilated, so as in some places to resemble the +jags or denticles of a saw. He returned the salutation of the +orange-man, and bowing to me, forthwith produced two scented wash-balls, +which he offered for sale, in a rough dissonant jargon, intended for +Spanish, but which seemed more like the Valencian or Catalan. + +Upon my asking him who he was, the following conversation ensued between +us:— + +“I am a Swiss of Lucerne, Benedict Mol {190} by name, once a soldier in +the Walloon guard, and now a soap-boiler, at your service.” + +“You speak the language of Spain very imperfectly,” said I; “how long +have you been in the country?” + +“Forty-five years,” replied Benedict; “but when the guard was broken up, +I went to Minorca, where I lost the Spanish language without acquiring +the Catalan.” + +“You have been a soldier of the king of Spain,” said I; “how did you like +the service?” + +“Not so well, but that I should have been glad to leave it forty years +ago; the pay was bad, and the treatment worse. I will now speak Swiss to +you, for, if I am not much mistaken, you are a German man, and understand +the speech of Lucerne. I should soon have deserted from the service of +Spain, as I did from that of the Pope, whose soldier I was in my early +youth, before I came here; but I had married a woman of Minorca, by whom +I had two children; it was this that detained me in those parts so long; +before, however, I left Minorca my wife died, and as for my children, one +went east, the other west, and I know not what became of them. I intend +shortly to return to Lucerne, and live there like a duke.” + +“Have you, then, realized a large capital in Spain?” said I, glancing at +his hat and the rest of his apparel. + +“Not a _cuart_, {191} not a _cuart_; these two wash-balls are all that I +possess.” + +“Perhaps you are the son of good parents, and have lands and money in +your own country wherewith to support yourself.” + +“Not a _heller_, not a _heller_; my father was hangman of Lucerne, and +when he died, his body was seized to pay his debts.” + +“Then, doubtless,” said I, “you intend to ply your trade of soap-boiling +at Lucerne. You are right, my friend; I know of no occupation more +honourable or useful.” + +“I have no thoughts of plying my trade at Lucerne,” replied Benedict; +“and now, as I see you are a German man, _lieber Herr_, and as I like +your countenance and your manner of speaking, I will tell you in +confidence that I know very little of my trade, and have already been +turned out of several fabriques as an evil workman; the two wash-balls +that I carry in my pocket are not of my own making. _In kurzem_, {192} I +know little more of soap-boiling than I do of tailoring, horse-farriery, +or shoe-making, all of which I have practised.” + +“Then I know not how you can hope to live like a _Herzog_ in your native +canton, unless you expect that the men of Lucerne, in consideration of +your services to the Pope and to the King of Spain, will maintain you in +splendour at the public expense.” + +“_Lieber Herr_,” said Benedict, “the men of Lucerne are by no means fond +of maintaining the soldiers of the Pope and the King of Spain at their +own expense. Many of the guard who have returned thither beg their bread +in the streets; but when I go, it shall be in a coach drawn by six mules, +with a treasure, a mighty _Schatz_ which lies in the church of Saint +James of Compostella, in Galicia.” + +“I hope you do not intend to rob the church,” said I; “if you do, +however, I believe you will be disappointed. Mendizabal and the liberals +have been beforehand with you. I am informed that at present no other +treasure is to be found in the cathedrals of Spain than a few paltry +ornaments and plated utensils.” + +“My good German _Herr_,” said Benedict, “it is no church _Schatz_, and no +person living, save myself, knows of its existence: nearly thirty years +ago, amongst the sick soldiers who were brought to Madrid, was one of my +comrades of the Walloon Guard, who had accompanied the French to +Portugal; he was very sick and shortly died. Before, however, he +breathed his last, he sent for me, and upon his death-bed told me that +himself and two other soldiers, both of whom had since been killed, had +buried in a certain church at Compostella a great booty which they had +made in Portugal; it consisted of gold _moidores_ and of a packet of huge +diamonds from the Brazils; the whole was contained in a large copper +kettle. I listened with greedy ears, and from that moment, I may say, I +have known no rest, neither by day nor night, thinking of the _Schatz_. +It is very easy to find, for the dying man was so exact in his +description of the place where it lies, that were I once at Compostella, +I should have no difficulty in putting my hand upon it; several times I +have been on the point of setting out on the journey, but something has +always happened to stop me. When my wife died, I left Minorca with a +determination to go to Saint James; {193a} but on reaching Madrid, I fell +into the hands of a Basque woman, who persuaded me to live with her, +which I have done for several years. She is a great _Hax_, {193b} and +says that if I desert her she will breathe a spell which shall cling to +me for ever. _Dem Gottsey Dank_, {193c} she is now in the hospital, and +daily expected to die. This is my history, _lieber Herr_.” + +I have been the more careful in relating the above conversation, as I +shall have frequent occasion to mention the Swiss in the course of these +journals; his subsequent adventures were highly extraordinary, and the +closing one caused a great sensation in Spain. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +State of Spain—Isturitz—Revolution of the Granja—The Disturbance—Signs of +Mischief—Newspaper Reporters—Quesada’s Onslaught—The closing Scene—Flight +of the Moderados—The Coffee Bowl. + +In the mean time the affairs of the _moderados_ did not proceed in a very +satisfactory manner; they were unpopular at Madrid, and still more so in +the other large towns of Spain, in most of which _juntas_ had been +formed, which, taking the local administration into their own hands, +declared themselves independent of the queen and her ministers, and +refused to pay taxes; so that the government was within a short time +reduced to great straits for money. The army was unpaid, and the war +languished—I mean on the part of the _Cristinos_, for the Carlists were +pushing it on with considerable vigour; parties of their _guerillas_ +{194} scouring the country in all directions, whilst a large division, +under the celebrated Gomez, was making the entire circuit of Spain. To +crown the whole, an insurrection was daily expected at Madrid, to prevent +which the nationals were disarmed, which measure tended greatly to +increase their hatred against the _moderado_ government, and especially +against Quesada, with whom it was supposed to have originated. + +With respect to my own matters, I lost no opportunity of pushing forward +my application; the Aragonese secretary, however, still harped upon the +Council of Trent, and succeeded in baffling all my efforts. He appeared +to have inoculated his principal with his own ideas upon this subject, +for the duke, when he beheld me at his levees, took no farther notice of +me than by a contemptuous glance; and once, when I stepped up for the +purpose of addressing him, disappeared through a side-door, and I never +saw him again, for I was disgusted with the treatment which I had +received, and forbore paying any more visits at the _Casa de la +Inquisicion_. Poor Galiano still proved himself my unshaken friend, but +candidly informed me that there was no hope of my succeeding in the above +quarter. “The duke,” said he, “says that your request cannot be granted; +and the other day, when I myself mentioned it in the council, began to +talk of the decision of Trent, and spoke of yourself as a plaguy +pestilent fellow; whereupon I answered him with some acrimony, and there +ensued a bit of a _funcion_ between us, at which Isturitz laughed +heartily. By-the-by,” continued he, “what need have you of a regular +permission, which it does not appear that any one has authority to grant? +The best thing that you can do under the circumstances is to commit the +work to the press, with an understanding that you shall not be interfered +with when you attempt to distribute it. I strongly advise you to see +Isturitz himself upon the matter. I will prepare him for the interview, +and will answer that he receives you civilly.” + +In fact, a few days afterwards, I had an interview with Isturitz at the +palace, and for the sake of brevity I shall content myself with saying +that I found him perfectly well disposed to favour my views. “I have +lived long in England,” said he; “the Bible is free there, and I see no +reason why it should not be free in Spain also. I am not prepared to say +that England is indebted for her prosperity to the knowledge which all +her children, more or less, possess of the sacred writings; but of one +thing I am sure, namely, that the Bible has done no harm in that country, +nor do I believe that it will effect any in Spain. Print it, therefore, +by all means, and circulate it as extensively as possible.” I retired, +highly satisfied with my interview, having obtained, if not a written +permission to print the sacred volume, what, under all circumstances, I +considered as almost equivalent—an understanding that my biblical +pursuits would be tolerated in Spain; and I had fervent hope that, +whatever was the fate of the present ministry, no future one, +particularly a liberal one, would venture to interfere with me, more +especially as the English ambassador was my friend, and was privy to all +the steps I had taken throughout the whole affair. {196} + +Two or three things connected with the above interview with Isturitz +struck me as being highly remarkable. First of all, the extreme facility +with which I obtained admission to the presence of the prime minister of +Spain. I had not to wait, or indeed to send in my name, but was +introduced at once by the doorkeeper. Secondly, the air of loneliness +which pervaded the place, so unlike the bustle, noise, and activity which +I observed when I waited on Mendizabal. In this instance, there were no +eager candidates for an interview with the great man; indeed, I did not +behold a single individual, with the exception of Isturitz and the +official. But that which made the most profound impression upon me, was +the manner of the minister himself, who, when I entered, sat upon a sofa, +with his arms folded, and his eyes directed to the ground. When he spoke +there was extreme depression in the tones of his voice, his dark features +wore an air of melancholy, and he exhibited all the appearance of a +person meditating to escape from the miseries of this life by the most +desperate of all acts—suicide. + +And a few days showed that he had, indeed, cause for much melancholy +meditation: in less than a week occurred the revolution of La Granja, +{197} as it is called. La Granja, or the Grange, is a royal country +seat, situated amongst pine forests on the other side of the Guadarrama +hills, about twelve leagues distant from Madrid. To this place the Queen +Regent Christina had retired, in order to be aloof from the discontent of +the capital, and to enjoy rural air and amusements in this celebrated +retreat, a monument of the taste and magnificence of the first Bourbon +who ascended the throne of Spain. She was not, however, permitted to +remain long in tranquillity; her own guards were disaffected, and more +inclined to the principles of the constitution of 1823 than to those of +absolute monarchy, which the _moderados_ were attempting to revive again +in the government of Spain. Early one morning, a party of these +soldiers, headed by a certain Sergeant Garcia, entered her apartment, and +proposed that she should subscribe her hand to this constitution, and +swear solemnly to abide by it. Christina, however, who was a woman of +considerable spirit, refused to comply with this proposal, and ordered +them to withdraw. A scene of violence and tumult ensued, but the Regent +still continuing firm, the soldiers at length led her down to one of the +courts of the palace, where stood her well-known paramour, Muñoz, bound +and blindfolded. “Swear to the constitution, you she-rogue,” vociferated +the swarthy sergeant. “Never!” said the spirited daughter of the +Neapolitan Bourbons. “Then your _cortejo_ shall die!” replied the +sergeant. “Ho! ho! my lads; get ready your arms, and send four bullets +through the fellow’s brain.” Muñoz was forthwith led to the wall, and +compelled to kneel down, the soldiers levelled their muskets, and another +moment would have consigned the unfortunate wight to eternity, when +Christina, forgetting everything but the feelings of her woman’s heart, +suddenly started forward with a shriek, exclaiming, “Hold, hold! I sign, +I sign!” + +The day after this event {198} I entered the Puerta del Sol at about +noon. There is always a crowd there about this hour, but it is generally +a very quiet motionless crowd, consisting of listless idlers calmly +smoking their cigars, or listening to or retailing the—in general—very +dull news of the capital; but on the day of which I am speaking, the mass +was no longer inert. There was much gesticulation and vociferation, and +several people were running about shouting, “_Viva la constitucion_!”—a +cry which, a few days previously, would have been visited on the utterer +with death, the city having for some weeks past been subjected to the +rigour of martial law. I occasionally heard the words, “_La Granja_! +_La Granja_!” which words were sure to be succeeded by the shout of +“_Viva la constitucion_!” Opposite the _Casa de Postas_ {199} were drawn +up in a line about a dozen mounted dragoons, some of whom were +continually waving their caps in the air and joining the common cry, in +which they were encouraged by their commander, a handsome young officer, +who flourished his sword, and more than once cried out with great glee, +“Long live the constitutional queen! Long live the constitution!” + +The crowd was rapidly increasing, and several nationals made their +appearance in their uniforms, but without their arms, of which they had +been deprived, as I have already stated. “What has become of the +_moderado_ government?” said I to Baltasar, whom I suddenly observed +amongst the crowd, dressed as when I had first seen him, in his old +regimental great coat and foraging cap; “have the ministers been deposed +and others put in their place?” + +“Not yet, _Don Jorge_,” said the little soldier-tailor; “not yet; the +scoundrels still hold out, relying on the brute bull Quesada and a few +infantry, who still continue true to them. But there is no fear, _Don +Jorge_; the queen is ours, thanks to the courage of my friend Garcia, and +if the brute bull should make his appearance—ho! ho! _Don Jorge_, you +shall see something—I am prepared for him, ho! ho!” and thereupon he half +opened his great coat, and showed me a small gun which he bore beneath it +in a sling, and then moving away with a wink and a nod, disappeared +amongst the crowd. + +Presently I perceived a small body of soldiers advancing up the Calle +Mayor, or principal street which runs from the Puerta del Sol in the +direction of the palace; they might be about twenty in number, and an +officer marched at their head with a drawn sword. The men appeared to +have been collected in a hurry, many of them being in fatigue dress, with +foraging caps on their heads. On they came, slowly marching; neither +their officer nor themselves paying the slightest attention to the cries +of the crowd which thronged about them, shouting, “Long live the +constitution!” save and except by an occasional surly side glance: on +they marched with contracted brows and set teeth, till they came in front +of the cavalry, where they halted and drew up in rank. + +“Those men mean mischief,” said I to my friend D---, of the _Morning +Chronicle_, who at this moment joined me; “and depend upon it, that if +they are ordered they will commence firing, caring nothing whom they hit. +But what can those cavalry fellows behind them mean, who are evidently of +the other opinion by their shouting? Why don’t they charge at once this +handful of foot people and overturn them? Once down, the crowd would +wrest from them their muskets in a moment. You are a liberal, which I am +not; why do you not go to that silly young man who commands the horse and +give him a word of counsel in time?” + +D--- turned upon me his broad red good-humoured English countenance, with +a peculiarly arch look, as much as to say, . . . (whatever you think most +applicable, gentle reader), then taking me by the arm, “Let us get,” said +he, “out of this crowd and mount to some window, where I can write down +what is about to take place, for I agree with you that mischief is +meant.” Just opposite the post-office was a large house, in the topmost +story of which we beheld a paper displayed, importing that apartments +were to let; whereupon we instantly ascended the common stair, and having +agreed with the mistress of the _étage_ for the use of the front room for +the day, we bolted the door, and the reporter, producing his pocket-book +and pencil, prepared to take notes of the coming events, which were +already casting their shadow before. + +What most extraordinary men are these reporters of newspapers in general, +I mean English newspapers! Surely if there be any class of individuals +who are entitled to the appellation of cosmopolites, it is these; who +pursue their avocation in all countries indifferently, and accommodate +themselves at will to the manners of all classes of society: their +fluency of style as writers is only surpassed by their facility of +language in conversation, and their attainments in classical and polite +literature only by their profound knowledge of the world, acquired by an +early introduction into its bustling scenes. The activity, energy, and +courage which they occasionally display in the pursuit of information, +are truly remarkable. I saw them during the three days at Paris, mingled +with _canaille_ and _gamins_ behind the barriers, whilst the _mitraille_ +was flying in all directions, and the desperate cuirassiers were dashing +their fierce horses against these seemingly feeble bulwarks. There stood +they, dotting down their observations in their pocket-books as +unconcernedly as if reporting the proceedings of a reform meeting in +Covent Garden or Finsbury Square; whilst in Spain, several of them +accompanied the Carlist and _Cristino guerillas_ in some of their most +desperate raids and expeditions, exposing themselves to the danger of +hostile bullets, the inclemency of winter, and the fierce heat of the +summer sun. + +We had scarcely been five minutes at the window, when we suddenly heard +the clattering of horses’ feet hastening down the street called the Calle +de Carretas. The house in which we had stationed ourselves was, as I +have already observed, just opposite to the post-office, at the left of +which this street debouches from the north into the Puerta del Sol: as +the sounds became louder and louder, the cries of the crowd below +diminished, and a species of panic seemed to have fallen upon all: once +or twice, however, I could distinguish the words, “Quesada! Quesada!” +The foot soldiers stood calm and motionless, but I observed that the +cavalry, with the young officer who commanded them, displayed both +confusion and fear, exchanging with each other some hurried words. All +of a sudden that part of the crowd which stood near the mouth of the +Calle de Carretas fell back in great disorder, leaving a considerable +space unoccupied, and the next moment Quesada, in complete general’s +uniform, and mounted on a bright bay thoroughbred English horse, with a +drawn sword in his hand, dashed at full gallop into the area, in much the +same manner as I have seen a Manchegan bull rush into the amphitheatre +when the gates of his pen are suddenly flung open. + +He was closely followed by two mounted officers, and at a short distance +by as many dragoons. In almost less time than is sufficient to relate +it, several individuals in the crowd were knocked down and lay sprawling +upon the ground, beneath the horses of Quesada and his two friends, for +as to the dragoons, they halted as soon as they had entered the Puerta +del Sol. It was a fine sight to see three men, by dint of valour and +good horsemanship, strike terror into at least as many thousands: I saw +Quesada spur his horse repeatedly into the dense masses of the crowd, and +then extricate himself in the most masterly manner. The rabble were +completely awed, and gave way, retiring by the Calle del Comercio and the +Calle del Alcalá. All at once, Quesada singled out two nationals, who +were attempting to escape, and setting spurs to his horse, turned them in +a moment, and drove them in another direction, striking them in a +contemptuous manner with the flat of his sabre. He was crying out, “Long +live the absolute queen!” when, just beneath me, amidst a portion of the +crowd which had still maintained its ground, perhaps from not having the +means of escaping, I saw a small gun glitter for a moment; then there was +a sharp report, and a bullet had nearly sent Quesada to his long account, +passing so near to the countenance of the general as to graze his hat. I +had an indistinct view for a moment of a well-known foraging cap just +about the spot from whence the gun had been discharged, then there was a +rush of the crowd, and the shooter, whoever he was, escaped discovery +amidst the confusion which arose. + +As for Quesada, he seemed to treat the danger from which he had escaped +with the utmost contempt. He glared about him fiercely for a moment, +then leaving the two nationals, who sneaked away like whipped hounds, he +went up to the young officer who commanded the cavalry, and who had been +active in raising the cry of the constitution, and to him he addressed a +few words with an air of stern menace; the youth evidently quailed before +him, and, probably in obedience to his orders, resigned the command of +the party, and rode away with a discomfited air; whereupon Quesada +dismounted and walked slowly backwards and forwards before the _Casa de +Postas_ with a mien which seemed to bid defiance to mankind. + +This was the glorious day of Quesada’s existence, his glorious and last +day. I call it the day of his glory, for he certainly never before +appeared under such brilliant circumstances, and he never lived to see +another sun set. No action of any conqueror or hero on record is to be +compared with this closing scene of the life of Quesada, for who, by his +single desperate courage and impetuosity, ever stopped a revolution in +full course? Quesada did: he stopped the revolution at Madrid for one +entire day, and brought back the uproarious and hostile mob of a huge +city to perfect order and quiet. His burst into the Puerta del Sol was +the most tremendous and successful piece of daring ever witnessed. I +admired so much the spirit of the “brute bull” that I frequently, during +his wild onset, shouted “_Viva Quesada_!” for I wished him well. Not +that I am of any political party or system. No, no! I have lived too +long with _Romany Chals_ {204a} and _Petulengres_ {204b} to be of any +politics save gypsy politics; and it is well known that, during +elections, the children of Roma side with both parties so long as the +event is doubtful, promising success to each; and then when the fight is +done, and the battle won, invariably range themselves in the ranks of the +victorious. But I repeat that I wished well to Quesada, witnessing, as I +did, his stout heart and good horsemanship. Tranquillity was restored to +Madrid throughout the remainder of the day; the handful of infantry +bivouacked in the Puerta del Sol. No more cries of “long live the +constitution” were heard; and the revolution in the capital seemed to +have been effectually put down. It is probable, indeed, that had the +chiefs of the _moderado_ party but continued true to themselves for +forty-eight hours longer, their cause would have triumphed, and the +revolutionary soldiers at La Granja would have been glad to restore the +Queen Regent to liberty, and to have come to terms, as it was well known +that several regiments, who still continued loyal, were marching upon +Madrid. The _moderados_, however, were _not_ true to themselves; that +very night their hearts failed them, and they fled in various +directions—Isturitz and Galiano to France; and the Duke of Rivas to +Gibraltar. The panic of his colleagues even infected Quesada, who, +disguised as a civilian, took to flight. He was not, however, so +successful as the rest, but was recognized at a village about three +leagues from Madrid, and cast into the prison by some friends of the +constitution. Intelligence of his capture was instantly transmitted to +the capital, and a vast mob of the nationals, some on foot, some on +horseback, and others in cabriolets, instantly set out. “The nationals +are coming,” said a _paisano_ to Quesada. “Then,” said he, “I am lost,” +and forthwith prepared himself for death. + +There is a celebrated coffee-house in the Calle del Alcalá, at Madrid, +capable of holding several hundred individuals. On the evening of the +day in question, I was seated there, sipping a cup of the brown beverage, +when I heard a prodigious noise and clamour in the street; it proceeded +from the nationals, who were returning from their expedition. In a few +minutes I saw a body of them enter the coffee-house, marching arm in arm, +two by two, stamping on the ground with their feet in a kind of measure, +and repeating in loud chorus, as they walked round the spacious +apartment, the following grisly stanza:— + + “Que es lo que abaja + Por aquel cerro? + Ta ra ra ra ra. + Son los huesos de Quesada, + Que los trae un perro— + Ta ra ra ra ra.” {206} + +A huge bowl of coffee was then called for, which was placed upon a table, +around which gathered the national soldiers. There was silence for a +moment, which was interrupted by a voice roaring out, “_El pañuelo_!” A +blue kerchief was forthwith produced, which appeared to contain a +substance of some kind; it was untied, and a gory hand and three or four +dissevered fingers made their appearance, and with these the contents of +the bowl were stirred up. “Cups! cups!” cried the nationals. . . . + +“Ho, ho, _Don Jorge_,” cried Baltasarito, coming up to me with a cup of +coffee, “pray do me the favour to drink upon this glorious occasion. +This is a pleasant day for Spain, and for the gallant nationals of +Madrid. I have seen many a bull _funcion_, but none which has given me +so much pleasure as this. Yesterday the brute had it all his own way, +but to-day the _toreros_ have prevailed, as you see, _Don Jorge_. Pray +drink; for I must now run home to fetch my _pajandi_ to play my brethren +a tune, and sing a _copla_. What shall it be? Something in _Gitano_? + + ‘Una noche sinava en tucue.’ {207a} + +You shake your head, _Don Jorge_. Ha, ha; I am young, and youth is the +time for pleasure. Well, well, out of compliment to you, who are an +Englishman and a _monró_, it shall not be that, but something liberal, +something patriotic, the Hymn of Riego. {207b} _Hasta despues_, _Don +Jorge_!” {207c} + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +The Steamer—Cape Finisterre—The Storm—Arrival at Cadiz—The New +Testament—Seville—Italica—The Amphitheatre—The Prisoners—The +Encounter—Baron Taylor—The Street and Desert. + +At the commencement of November {208} I again found myself on the salt +water, on my way to Spain. I had returned to England shortly after the +events which have been narrated in the last chapter, for the purpose of +consulting with my friends, and for planning the opening of a biblical +campaign in Spain. It was now determined by us to print the New +Testament, with as little delay as possible, at Madrid; and I was to be +entrusted with the somewhat arduous task of its distribution. My stay in +England was very short, for time was precious, and I was eager to return +to the field of action. + +I embarked in the Thames, on board the _M---_ steamer. We had a most +unpleasant passage to Falmouth. The ship was crowded with passengers; +most of them were poor consumptive individuals, and other invalids +fleeing from the cold blasts of England’s winter to the sunny shores of +Portugal and Madeira. In a more uncomfortable vessel, especially +steamship, it has never been my fate to make a voyage. The berths were +small and insupportably close, and of these wretched holes mine was +amongst the worst, the rest having been bespoken before I arrived on +board; so that, to avoid the suffocation which seemed to threaten me, +should I enter it, I lay upon the floor of one of the cabins throughout +the voyage. We remained at Falmouth twenty-four hours, taking in coal +and repairing the engine, which had sustained considerable damage. + +On Monday, the 7th, we again started, and made for the Bay of Biscay. +The sea was high, and the wind strong and contrary; nevertheless, on the +morning of the fourth day, we were in sight of the rocky coast to the +north of Cape Finisterre. I must here observe, that this was the first +voyage that the captain who commanded the vessel had ever made on board +of her, and that he knew little or nothing of the coast towards which we +were bearing. He was a person picked up in a hurry, the former captain +having resigned his command on the ground that the ship was not +seaworthy, and that the engines were frequently unserviceable. I was not +acquainted with these circumstances at the time, or perhaps I should have +felt more alarmed than I did, when I saw the vessel approaching nearer +and nearer the shore, till at last we were only a few hundred yards +distant. As it was, however, I felt very much surprised; for having +passed it twice before, both times in steam-vessels, and having seen with +what care the captains endeavoured to maintain a wide offing, I could not +conceive the reason of our being now so near this dangerous region. The +wind was blowing hard towards the shore, if that can be called a shore +which consists of steep abrupt precipices, on which the surf was breaking +with the noise of thunder, tossing up clouds of spray and foam to the +height of a cathedral. We coasted slowly along, rounding several tall +forelands, some of them piled up by the hand of nature in the most +fantastic shapes. About nightfall Cape Finisterre was not far ahead—a +bluff, brown granite mountain, whose frowning head may be seen far away +by those who traverse the ocean. The stream which poured round its +breast was terrific, and though our engines plied with all their force, +we made little or no way. + +By about eight o’clock at night the wind had increased to a hurricane, +the thunder rolled frightfully, and the only light which we had to guide +us on our way was the red forked lightning, which burst at times from the +bosom of the big black clouds which lowered over our heads. We were +exerting ourselves to the utmost to weather the cape, which we could +descry by the lightning on our lee, its brow being frequently brilliantly +lighted up by the flashes which quivered around it, when suddenly, with a +great crash, the engine broke, and the paddles, on which depended our +lives, ceased to play. + +I will not attempt to depict the scene of horror and confusion which +ensued; it may be imagined, but never described. The captain, to give +him his due, displayed the utmost coolness and intrepidity: he and the +whole crew made the greatest exertions to repair the engine, and when +they found their labour in vain, endeavoured, by hoisting the sails, and +by practising all possible manœuvres, to preserve the ship from impending +destruction. But all was of no avail; we were hard on a lee shore, to +which the howling tempest was impelling us. About this time I was +standing near the helm, and I asked the steersman if there was any hope +of saving the vessel, or our lives. He replied, “Sir, it is a bad +affair; no boat could live for a minute in this sea, and in less than an +hour the ship will have her broadside on Finisterre, where the strongest +man-of-war ever built must go to shivers instantly. None of us will see +the morning.” The captain likewise informed the other passengers in the +cabin to the same effect, telling them to prepare themselves; and having +done so, he ordered the door to be fastened, and none to be permitted to +come on deck. I however kept my station, though almost drowned with +water, immense waves continually breaking over our windward side and +flooding the ship. The water-casks broke from their lashings, and one of +them struck me down, and crushed the foot of the unfortunate man at the +helm, whose place was instantly taken by the captain. We were now close +to the rocks, when a horrid convulsion of the elements took place. The +lightning enveloped us as with a mantle; the thunders were louder than +the roar of a million cannon; the dregs of the ocean seemed to be cast +up, and in the midst of all this turmoil, the wind, without the slightest +intimation, _veered right about_, and pushed us from the horrible coast +faster than it had previously driven us towards it. + +The oldest sailors on board acknowledged that they had never witnessed so +providential an escape. I said, from the bottom of my heart, “Our +Father—hallowed be Thy name.” + +The next day we were near foundering, for the sea was exceedingly high, +and our vessel, which was not intended for sailing, laboured terribly, +and leaked much. The pumps were continually working. She likewise took +fire, but the flames were extinguished. In the evening the steam-engine +was partially repaired, and we reached Lisbon on the thirteenth, where in +a few days we completed our repairs. + +I found my excellent friend W--- in good health. During my absence he +had been doing everything in his power to further the sale of the sacred +volume in Portuguese: his zeal and devotedness were quite admirable. The +distracted state of the country, however, during the last six months, had +sadly impeded his efforts. The minds of the people had been so engrossed +with politics, that they found scarcely any time to think of the welfare +of their souls. The political history of Portugal had of late afforded a +striking parallel to that of the neighbouring country. In both a +struggle for supremacy had arisen between the court and the democratic +party; in both the latter had triumphed, whilst two distinguished +individuals had fallen a sacrifice to the popular fury—Freire {212a} in +Portugal, and Quesada in Spain. The news which reached me at Lisbon from +the latter country was rather startling. The hordes of Gomez {212b} were +ravaging Andalusia, which I was about to visit on my way to Madrid; +Cordova had been sacked and abandoned, after a three days’ occupation by +the Carlists. I was told that if I persisted in my attempt to enter +Spain in the direction which I proposed, I should probably fall into +their hands at Seville. I had, however, no fears, and had full +confidence that the Lord would open the path before me to Madrid. + +The vessel being repaired, we again embarked, and in two days arrived in +safety at Cadiz. I found great confusion reigning there; numerous bands +of the factious were reported to be hovering in the neighbourhood. An +attack was not deemed improbable, and the place had just been declared in +a state of siege. I took up my abode at the French hotel, in the Calle +de la Niveria, and was allotted a species of cockloft, or garret, to +sleep in, for the house was filled with guests, being a place of much +resort, on account of the excellent _table d’hôte_ which is kept there. +I dressed myself, and walked about the town. I entered several +coffee-houses: the din of tongues in all was deafening. In one no less +than six orators were haranguing at the same time on the state of the +country, and the probability of an intervention on the part of England +and France. As I was listening to one of them, he suddenly called upon +me for my opinion, as I was a foreigner, and seemingly just arrived. I +replied that I could not venture to guess what steps the two governments +would pursue under the present circumstances, but thought that it would +be as well if the Spaniards would exert themselves more, and call less on +Jupiter. As I did not wish to engage in any political conversation, I +instantly quitted the house, and sought those parts of the town where the +lower classes principally reside. + +I entered into discourse with several individuals, but found them very +ignorant; none could read or write, and their ideas respecting religion +were anything but satisfactory—most professing a perfect indifference. I +afterwards went into a bookseller’s shop, and made inquiries respecting +the demand for literature, which he informed me was small. I produced a +London edition of the New Testament, in Spanish, and asked the bookseller +whether he thought a book of that description would sell in Cadiz. He +said that both the type and paper were exceedingly beautiful, but that it +was a work not sought after and very little known. I did not pursue my +inquiries in other shops, for I reflected that I was not likely to +receive a very favourable opinion from booksellers respecting a +publication in which they had no interest. I had, moreover, but two or +three copies of the New Testament with me, and could not have supplied +them, had they even given me an order. + +Early on the 24th I embarked for Seville, in the small Spanish steamer +the _Betis_. {214} The morning was wet, and the aspect of nature was +enveloped in a dense mist, which prevented my observing surrounding +objects. After proceeding about six leagues, we reached the +north-eastern extremity of the Bay of Cadiz, and passed by San Lucar, an +ancient town near to the spot where the Guadalquivir disembogues itself. +The mist suddenly disappeared, and the sun of Spain burst forth in full +brilliancy, enlivening all round, and particularly myself, who had till +then been lying on the deck in a dull melancholy stupor. We entered the +mouth of “The Great River,” for that is the English translation of _Wady +al Kebir_, as the Moors designated the ancient Betis. We came to anchor +for a few minutes at a little village called Bonanza, at the extremity of +the first reach of the river, where we received several passengers, and +again proceeded. There is not much in the appearance of the Guadalquivir +to interest the traveller: the banks are low and destitute of trees, the +adjacent country is flat, and only in the distance is seen a range of +tall blue sierras. The water is turbid and muddy, and in colour closely +resembling the contents of a duck-pool; the average width of the stream +is from 150 to 200 yards. But it is impossible to move along this river +without remembering that it has borne the Roman, the Vandal, and the +Arab, and has been the witness of deeds which have resounded through the +world, and been the themes of immortal songs. I repeated Latin verses +and fragments of old Spanish ballads till we reached Seville, at about +nine o’clock of a lovely moonlight night. + +Seville contains ninety thousand inhabitants, and is situated on the +eastern bank of the Guadalquivir, about eighteen leagues from its mouth; +it is surrounded with high Moorish walls, in a good state of +preservation, and built of such durable materials that it is probable +they will for many centuries still bid defiance to the encroachments of +time. The most remarkable edifices are the cathedral and _alcazar_, or +palace of the Moorish kings. The tower of the former, called La Giralda, +{215} belongs to the period of the Moors, and formed part of the grand +mosque of Seville: it is computed to be one hundred ells in height, and +is ascended not by stairs or ladders, but by a vaulted pathway, in the +manner of an inclined plane. This path is by no means steep, so that a +cavalier might ride up to the top, a feat which Ferdinand the Seventh is +said to have accomplished. The view from the summit is very extensive, +and on a fine clear day the mountain ridge called the Sierra de Ronda may +be discovered, though upwards of twenty leagues distant. The cathedral +itself is a noble Gothic structure, {216a} reputed the finest of the kind +in Spain. In the chapels allotted to the various saints are some of the +most magnificent paintings which Spanish art has produced; indeed, the +cathedral of Seville is at the present time far more rich in splendid +paintings than at any former period, possessing many very recently +removed from some of the suppressed convents, particularly from the +Capuchin and San Francisco. + +No one should visit Seville without paying particular attention to the +_alcazar_, that splendid specimen of Moorish architecture. It contains +many magnificent halls, particularly that of the ambassadors, so called, +which is in every respect more magnificent than the one of the same name +within the Alhambra of Granada. This palace was a favourite residence of +Peter the Cruel, {216b} who carefully repaired it without altering its +Moorish character and appearance. It probably remains in much the same +state as at the time of his death. + +On the right side of the river is a large suburb, called Triana, +communicating with Seville by means of a bridge of boats; {216c} for +there is no permanent bridge across the Guadalquivir, owing to the +violent inundations to which it is subject. This suburb is inhabited by +the dregs of the populace, and abounds with _Gitanos_ or gypsies. About +a league and a half to the north-west stands the village of Santi Ponce: +at the foot and on the side of some elevated ground higher up are to be +seen vestiges of ruined walls and edifices, which once formed part of +Italica, the birthplace of Silius Italicus and Trajan, from which latter +personage Triana derives its name. + +One fine morning I walked thither, and, having ascended the hill, I +directed my course northward. I soon reached what had once been bagnios; +and a little farther on, in a kind of valley, between two gentle +declivities, the amphitheatre. This latter object is by far the most +considerable relic of ancient Italica; it is oval in its form, with two +gateways fronting the east and west. + +On all sides are to be seen the time-worn broken granite benches, from +whence myriads of human beings once gazed down on the area below, where +the gladiator shouted, and the lion and the leopard yelled: all around, +beneath these flights of benches, are vaulted excavations from whence the +combatants, part human, part bestial, darted forth by their several +doors. I spent many hours in this singular place, forcing my way through +the wild fennel and brushwood into the caverns, now the haunts of adders +and other reptiles, whose hissings I heard. Having sated my curiosity, I +left the ruins, and, returning by another way, reached a place where lay +the carcass of a horse half devoured; upon it, with lustrous eyes, stood +an enormous vulture, who, as I approached, slowly soared aloft till he +alighted on the eastern gate of the amphitheatre, from whence he uttered +a hoarse cry, as if in anger that I had disturbed him from his feast of +carrion. + +Gomez had not hitherto paid a visit to Seville: when I arrived he was +said to be in the neighbourhood of Ronda. The city was under watch and +ward: several gates had been blocked up with masonry, trenches dug, and +redoubts erected; but I am convinced that the place would not have held +out six hours against a resolute attack. Gomez had proved himself to be +a most extraordinary man; and with his small army of Aragonese and +Basques had, within the last four months, made the tour of Spain. He had +very frequently been hemmed in by forces three times the number of his +own, in places whence escape appeared impossible; but he had always +baffled his enemies, whom he seemed to laugh at. The most absurd +accounts of victories gained over him were continually issuing from the +press at Seville; amongst others, it was stated that his army had been +utterly defeated, himself killed, and that twelve hundred prisoners were +on their way to Seville. I saw these prisoners: instead of twelve +hundred desperadoes, {218} they consisted of about twenty poor, lame, +ragged wretches, many of them boys from fourteen to sixteen years of age. +They were evidently camp-followers, who, unable to keep up with the army, +had been picked up straggling in the plains and amongst the hills. + +It subsequently appeared that no battle had occurred, and that the death +of Gomez was a fiction. The grand defect of Gomez consisted in not +knowing how to take advantage of circumstances: after defeating Lopez, he +might have marched to Madrid and proclaimed Don Carlos there; and after +sacking Cordova he might have captured Seville. + +There were several booksellers’ shops at Seville, in two of which I found +copies of the New Testament in Spanish, which had been obtained from +Gibraltar about two years before, since which time six copies had been +sold in one shop and four in the other. The person who generally +accompanied me in my walks about the town and the neighbourhood, was an +elderly Genoese, who officiated as a kind of _valet de place_ in the +Posada del Turco, where I had taken up my residence. On learning from me +that it was my intention to bring out an edition of the New Testament at +Madrid, he observed that copies of the work might be extensively +circulated in Andalusia. “I have been accustomed to bookselling,” he +continued, “and at one time possessed a small shop of my own in this +place. Once having occasion to go to Gibraltar, I procured several +copies of the Scriptures: some, it is true, were seized by the officers +of the customs; but the rest I sold at a high price, and with +considerable profit to myself.” + +I had returned from a walk in the country, on a glorious sunshiny morning +of the Andalusian winter, and was directing my steps towards my lodging: +as I was passing by the portal of a large gloomy house near the gate of +Xeres, two individuals, dressed in _zamarras_, emerged from the archway, +and were about to cross my path, when one, looking in my face, suddenly +started back, exclaiming in the purest and most melodious French:—“What +do I see? If my eyes do not deceive me—it is himself. Yes, the very +same as I saw him first at Bayonne; then long subsequently beneath the +brick wall at Novogorod; then beside the Bosphorus; and last at—at— Oh, +my respectable and cherished friend, where was it that I had last the +felicity of seeing your well-remembered and most remarkable physiognomy?” + +_Myself_.—It was in the south of Ireland, if I mistake not. Was it not +there that I introduced you to the sorcerer who tamed the savage horses +by a single whisper into their ear? But tell me what brings you to Spain +and Andalusia, the last place where I should have expected to find you? + +_Baron Taylor_.—And wherefore, my most respectable B---? Is not Spain +the land of the arts; and is not Andalusia of all Spain that portion +which has produced the noblest monuments of artistic excellence and +inspiration? Surely you know enough of me to be aware that the arts are +my passion; that I am incapable of imagining a more exalted enjoyment +than to gaze in adoration on a noble picture. Oh, come with me! for you, +too, have a soul capable of appreciating what is lovely and exalted; a +soul delicate and sensitive. Come with me, and I will show you a +Murillo, such as . . . But first allow me to introduce you to your +compatriot. My dear Monsieur W---, turning to his companion (an English +gentleman, from whom and from his family I subsequently experienced +unbounded kindness and hospitality on various occasions, and at different +periods at Seville), allow me to introduce to you my most cherished and +respectable friend, one who is better acquainted with gypsy ways than the +_Chef des Bohémiens à Triana_, {220} one who is an expert whisperer and +horse-sorcerer; and who, to his honour I say it, can wield hammer and +tongs, and handle a horseshoe with the best of the smiths amongst the +Alpujarras of Granada. + +In the course of my travels I have formed various friendships and +acquaintances, but no one has more interested me than Baron Taylor, {221} +and there is no one for whom I entertain a greater esteem and regard. To +personal and mental accomplishments of the highest order he unites a +kindness of heart rarely to be met with, and which is continually +inducing him to seek for opportunities of doing good to his +fellow-creatures, and of contributing to their happiness; perhaps no +person in existence has seen more of the world and life in its various +phases than himself. His manners are naturally to the highest degree +courtly, yet he nevertheless possesses a disposition so pliable that he +finds no difficulty in accommodating himself to all kinds of company, in +consequence of which he is a universal favourite. There is a mystery +about him, which, wherever he goes, serves not a little to increase the +sensation naturally created by his appearance and manner. Who he is, no +one pretends to assert with downright positiveness: it is whispered, +however, that he is a scion of royalty; and who can gaze for a moment +upon that most graceful figure, that most intelligent but singularly +moulded countenance, and those large and expressive eyes, without feeling +as equally convinced that he is of no common lineage, as that he is no +common man? Though possessed of talents and eloquence which would +speedily have enabled him to attain to an illustrious position in the +state, he has hitherto, and perhaps wisely, contented himself with +comparative obscurity, chiefly devoting himself to the study of the arts +and of literature, of both of which he is a most bounteous patron. + +He has, notwithstanding, been employed by the illustrious house to which +he is said to be related in more than one delicate and important mission, +both in the East and the West, in which his efforts have uniformly been +crowned with complete success. He was now collecting masterpieces of the +Spanish school of painting, which were destined to adorn the saloons of +the Tuileries. + +He has visited most portions of the earth; and it is remarkable enough +that we are continually encountering each other in strange places and +under singular circumstances. Whenever he descries me, whether in the +street or the desert, the brilliant hall or amongst Bedouin _haimas_, at +Novogorod or Stambul, he flings up his arms and exclaims, “_O ciel_! I +have again the felicity of seeing my cherished and most respectable +B---.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Departure for Cordova—Carmona—German Colonies—Language—The Sluggish +Horse—Nocturnal Welcome—Carlist Landlord—Good Advice—Gomez—The Old +Genoese—The Two Opinions. + +After a sojourn of about fourteen days at Seville, I departed for +Cordova. The diligence had for some time past ceased running, owing to +the disturbed state of the province. I had therefore no resource but to +proceed thither on horseback. I hired a couple of horses, and engaged +the old Genoese, of whom I have already had occasion to speak, to attend +me as far as Cordova, and to bring them back. Notwithstanding we were +now in the depths of winter, the weather was beautiful, the days sunny +and brilliant, though the nights were rather keen. We passed by the +little town of Alcalá, {223} celebrated for the ruins of an immense +Moorish castle, which stand on a rocky hill, overhanging a picturesque +river. The first night we slept at Carmona, another Moorish town, +distant about seven leagues from Seville. Early in the morning we again +mounted and departed. Perhaps in the whole of Spain there is scarcely a +finer Moorish monument of antiquity than the eastern side of this town of +Carmona, which occupies the brow of a lofty hill, and frowns over an +extensive _vega_ or plain, which extends for leagues unplanted and +uncultivated, producing nothing but brushwood and _carrasco_. Here rise +tall and dusky walls, with square towers at short distances, of so +massive a structure that they would seem to bid defiance alike to the +tooth of time and the hand of man. This town, in the time of the Moors, +was considered the key to Seville, and did not submit to the Christian +arms till after a long and desperate siege: the capture of Seville +followed speedily after. The _vega_ upon which we now entered forms a +part of the grand _despoblado_ or desert of Andalusia, once a smiling +garden, but which became what it now is on the expulsion of the Moors +from Spain, when it was drained almost entirely of its population. The +towns and villages from hence to the Sierra Morena, which divides +Andalusia from La Mancha, are few and far between, and even of these +several date from the middle of the last century, when an attempt was +made by a Spanish minister to people this wilderness with the children of +a foreign land. + +At about midday we arrived at a place called Moncloa, which consisted of +a _venta_, and a desolate-looking edifice which had something of the +appearance of a _château_; a solitary palm tree raised its head over the +outer wall. We entered the _venta_, tied our horses to the manger, and +having ordered barley for them, we sat down before a large fire, which +burned in the middle of the _venta_. The host and hostess also came and +sat down beside us. “They are evil people,” said the old Genoese to me +in Italian, “and this is an evil house; it is a harbouring place for +thieves, and murders have been committed here, if all tales be true.” I +looked at these two people attentively; they were both young, the man +apparently about twenty-five years of age. He was a short thick-made +churl, evidently of prodigious strength; his features were rather +handsome, but with a gloomy expression, and his eyes were full of sullen +fire. His wife somewhat resembled him, but had a countenance more open +and better tempered; but what struck me as most singular in connexion +with these people, was the colour of their hair and complexion. The +latter was fair and ruddy, and the former of a bright auburn, both in +striking contrast to the black hair and swarthy visages which in general +distinguish the natives of this province. “Are you an Andalusian?” said +I to the hostess. “I should almost conclude you to be a German.” + +_Hostess_.—And your worship would not be very wrong. It is true that I +am a Spaniard, being born in Spain; but it is equally true that I am of +German blood, for my grandparents came from Germany even like those of +this gentleman, my lord and husband. + +_Myself_.—And what chance brought your grandparents into this country? + +_Hostess_.—Did your worship never hear of the German colonies? There are +many of them in these parts. In old times the land was nearly deserted, +and it was very dangerous for travellers to journey along the waste, +owing to the robbers. So a long time ago, nearly a hundred years, as I +am told, some potent lord sent messengers to Germany, to tell the people +there what a goodly land there was in these parts uncultivated for want +of hands, and to promise every labourer who would consent to come and +till it, a house and a yoke of oxen, with food and provision for one +year. And in consequence of this invitation a great many poor families +left the German land and came hither, and settled down in certain towns +and villages which had been prepared for them, which places were called +German colonies, and this name they still retain. + +_Myself_.—And how many of these colonies may there be? + +_Hostess_.—There are several, both on this side of Cordova and the other. +The nearest is Luisiana, about two leagues from hence, from which place +both my husband and myself come; the next is Carlota, {226} which is some +ten leagues distant, and these are the only colonies of our people which +I have seen; but there are others farther on, and some, as I have heard +say, in the very heart of the Sierra Morena. + +_Myself_.—And do the colonists still retain the language of their +forefathers? + +_Hostess_.—We speak Spanish, or rather Andalusian, and no other language. +A few, indeed, amongst the very old people, retain a few words of German, +which they acquired from their fathers, who were born in the other +country; but the last person amongst the colonists who could understand a +conversation in German was the aunt of my mother, who came over when a +girl. When I was a child I remember her conversing with a foreign +traveller, a countryman of hers, in a language which I was told was +German, and they understood each other, though the old woman confessed +that she had lost many words: she has now been dead several years. + +_Myself_.—Of what religion are the colonists? + +_Hostess_.—They are Christians, like the Spaniards, and so were their +fathers before them. Indeed, I have heard that they came from a part of +Germany where the Christian religion is as much practised as in Spain +itself. + +_Myself_.—The Germans are the most honest people in the world: being +their legitimate descendants, you have of course no thieves amongst you. + +The hostess glanced at me for a moment, then looked at her husband and +smiled: the latter, who had hitherto been smoking without uttering a +word, though with a peculiarly surly and dissatisfied countenance, now +flung the remainder of his cigar amongst the embers, then springing up, +he muttered, “_Disparate_!” and “_Conversacion_!” and went abroad. + +“You touched them in the sore place, _Signore_,” said the Genoese, after +we had left Moncloa some way behind us. “Were they honest people they +would not keep that _venta_; and as for the colonists, I know not what +kind of people they might be when they first came over, but at present +their ways are not a bit better than those of the Andalusians, but rather +worse, if there is any difference at all.” + +A short time before sunset of the third day after our departure from +Seville, we found ourselves at the Cuesta del Espinal, or hill of the +thorn tree, at about two leagues from Cordova;—we could just descry the +walls of the city, upon which the last beams of the descending luminary +were resting. As the neighbourhood in which we were was, according to +the account of my guide, generally infested with robbers, we used our +best endeavours to reach the town before the night should have entirely +closed in. We did not succeed, however, and before we had proceeded half +the distance, pitchy darkness overtook us. Throughout the journey we had +been considerably delayed by the badness of our horses, especially that +of my attendant, which appeared to pay no regard to whip or spur: his +rider also was no horseman, it being thirty years, as he at length +confessed to me, since he last mounted in a saddle. Horses soon become +aware of the powers of their riders, and the brute in question was +disposed to take great advantage of the fears and weakness of the old +man. There is a remedy, however, for most things in this world. I +became so wearied at last at the snail’s pace at which we were +proceeding, that I fastened the bridle of the sluggish horse to the +crupper of mine; then sparing neither spur nor cudgel, I soon forced my +own horse into a kind of trot, which compelled the other to make some use +of his legs. He twice attempted to fling himself down, to the great +terror of his aged rider, who frequently entreated me to stop and permit +him to dismount. I, however, took no notice of what he said, but +continued spurring and cudgelling with unabated activity, and with such +success, that in less than half an hour we saw lights close before us, +and presently came to a river and a bridge, which crossing, we found +ourselves at the gate of Cordova, without having broken either our +horses’ knees or our own necks. + +We passed through the entire length of the town ere we reached the +_posada_: the streets were dark and almost entirely deserted. The +_posada_ was a large building, the windows of which were well fenced with +_rejas_, or iron grating: no light gleamed from them, and the silence of +death not only seemed to pervade the house, but the street in which it +was situated. We knocked for a long time at the gate without receiving +any answer; we then raised our voices and shouted. At last some one from +within inquired what we wanted. “Open the door and you will see,” we +replied. “I shall do no such thing,” answered the individual from +within, “until I know who you are.” “We are travellers,” said I, “from +Seville.”‘ “Travellers, are you?” said the voice; “why did you not tell +me so before? I am not porter at this house to keep out travellers. +Jesus Maria knows we have not so many of them that we need repulse any. +Enter, cavalier, and welcome, you and your company.” + +He opened the gate and admitted us into a spacious courtyard, and then +forthwith again secured the gate with various bolts and bars. “Are you +afraid that the Carlists should pay you a visit,” I demanded, “that you +take so much precaution?” “It is not the Carlists we are afraid of,” +replied the porter; “they have been here already, and did us no damage +whatever. It is certain scoundrels of this town that we are afraid of, +who have a spite against the master of the house, and would murder both +him and his family, could they but find an opportunity.” + +I was about to inquire the cause of this enmity, when a thick bulky man, +bearing a light in his hand, came running down a stone staircase, which +led into the interior of the building. Two or three females, also +bearing lights, followed him. He stopped on the lowest stair. “Whom +have we here?” he exclaimed; then advancing the lamp which he bore, the +light fell full upon my face. “_Ola_!” he exclaimed; “is it you? Only +think,” said he, turning to the female who stood next him, a +dark-featured person, stout as himself, and about his own age, which +might border upon fifty; “only think, my dear, that at the very moment we +were wishing for a guest, an Englishman should be standing before our +doors, for I should know an Englishman at a mile’s distance, even in the +dark. Juanito,” cried he to the porter, “open not the gate any more +to-night, whoever may ask for admission. Should the nationals come to +make any disturbance, tell them that the son of Belington {230} is in the +house ready to attack them sword in hand unless they retire; and should +other travellers arrive, which is not likely, inasmuch as we have seen +none for a month past, say that we have no room, all our apartments being +occupied by an English gentleman and his company.” + +I soon found that my friend the _posadero_ was a most egregious Carlist. +Before I had finished supper—during which, both himself and all his +family were present, surrounding the little table at which I sat, and +observing my every motion, particularly the manner in which I handled my +knife and fork and conveyed the food to my mouth—he commenced talking +politics. “I am of no particular opinion, _Don Jorge_,” said he, for he +had inquired my name in order that he might address me in a suitable +manner; “I am of no particular opinion, and I hold neither for King +Carlos nor for the _chica_ Isabel: nevertheless, I lead the life of a dog +in this accursed _Cristino_ town, which I would have left long ago, had +it not been the place of my birth, and did I but know whither to betake +myself. Ever since the troubles have commenced, I have been afraid to +stir into the street, for no sooner do the _canaille_ of the town see me +turning round a corner, than they forthwith exclaim, ‘Halloo, the +Carlist!’ and then there is a run and a rush, and stones and cudgels are +in great requisition; so that unless I can escape home, which is no easy +matter, seeing that I weigh eighteen stone, my life is poured out in the +street, which is neither decent nor convenient, as I think you will +acknowledge, _Don Jorge_. You see that young man,” he continued, +pointing to a tall swarthy youth who stood behind my chair, officiating +as waiter; “he is my fourth son, is married, and does not live in the +house, but about a hundred yards down the street. He was summoned in a +hurry to wait upon your worship, as is his duty: know, however, that he +has come at the peril of his life. Before he leaves this house, he must +peep out into the street to see if the coast is clear, and then he must +run like a partridge to his own door. Carlists! why should they call my +family and myself Carlists? It is true that my eldest son was a friar, +and when the convents were suppressed, betook himself to the royal ranks, +in which he has been fighting upwards of three years; could I help that? +Nor was it my fault, I trow, that my second son enlisted with Gomez and +the royalists when they entered Cordova. God prosper him, I say; but I +did not bid him go! So far from being a Carlist, it was I who persuaded +this very lad who is present to remain here, though he would fain have +gone with his brother, for he is a brave lad and a true Christian. ‘Stay +at home,’ said I, ‘for what can I do without you? Who is to wait upon +the guests when it pleases God to send them? Stay at home, at least till +your brother, my third son, comes back; for, to my shame be it spoken, +Don Jorge, I have a son a soldier and a sergeant in the _Cristino_ +armies, sorely against his own inclination, poor fellow, for he likes not +the military life, and I have been soliciting his discharge for years; +indeed, I have counselled him to maim himself, in order that he might +procure his liberty forthwith. So I said to this lad, ‘Stay at home, my +child, till your brother comes to take your place and prevent our bread +being eaten by strangers, who would perhaps sell me and betray me;’ so my +son staid at home, as you see, _Don Jorge_, at my request, and yet they +call me a Carlist!” + +“Gomez and his bands have lately been in Cordova,” {232} said I; “of +course you were present at all that occurred: how did they comport +themselves?” + +“Bravely well,” replied the innkeeper, “bravely well, and I wish they +were here still. I hold with neither side, as I told you before, _Don +Jorge_, but I confess I never felt greater pleasure in my life than when +they entered the gate. And then to see the dogs of nationals flying +through the streets to save their lives—that was a sight, _Don Jorge_. +Those who met me then at the corner forgot to shout, ‘_Hola_! +_Carlista_!’ and I heard not a word about cudgelling. Some jumped from +the wall and ran no one knows where, whilst the rest retired to the house +of the Inquisition, which they had fortified, and there they shut +themselves up. Now you must know, _Don Jorge_, that all the Carlist +chiefs lodged at my house—Gomez, Cabrera, and the Sawyer; and it chanced +that I was talking to my Lord Gomez in this very room in which we are +now, when in came Cabrera in a mighty fury—he is a small man, _Don +Jorge_, but he is as active as a wild cat and as fierce. ‘The +_canaille_,’ said he, ‘in the _Casa_ of the Inquisition refuse to +surrender; give but the order, general, and I will scale the walls with +my men, and put them all to the sword.’ But Gomez said, ‘No, we must not +spill blood if we can avoid it. Order a few muskets to be fired at them; +that will be sufficient!’ And so it proved, _Don Jorge_, for after a few +discharges their hearts failed them, and they surrendered at discretion: +whereupon their arms were taken from them, and they were permitted to +return to their own houses. But as soon as ever the Carlists departed, +these fellows became as bold as ever, and it is now once more, ‘_Hola_! +_Carlista_!’ when they see me turning the corner; and it is for fear of +them that my son must run like a partridge to his own home, now that he +has done waiting on your worship, lest they meet him in the street, and +kill him with their knives!” + +“You tell me that you were acquainted with Gomez: what kind of man might +he be?” + +“A middle-sized man,” replied the innkeeper; “grave and dark. But the +most remarkable personage in appearance of them all was the Sawyer: he is +a kind of giant, so tall, that when he entered the doorway he invariably +struck his head against the lintel. The one I liked least of all was one +Palillos, who is a gloomy savage ruffian, whom I knew when he was a +postilion. Many is the time that he has been at my house of old; he is +now captain of the Manchegan thieves, for, though he calls himself a +royalist, he is neither more nor less than a thief. It is a disgrace to +the cause that such as he should be permitted to mix with honourable and +brave men. I hate that fellow, _Don Jorge_: it is owing to him that I +have so few customers. Travellers are, at present, afraid to pass +through La Mancha, lest they fall into his hands. I wish he were hanged, +_Don Jorge_, and whether by _Cristinos_ or Royalists, I care not.” + +“You recognized me at once for an Englishman,” said I; “do many of my +countrymen visit Cordova?” + +“_Toma_!” said the landlord, “they are my best customers; I have had +Englishmen in this house of all grades, from the son of Belington to a +young _medico_, who cured my daughter, the _chica_ here, of the earache. +How should I not know an Englishman? There were two with Gomez, serving +as volunteers. _Vaya_: _que gente_! {234} what noble horses they rode, +and how they scattered their gold about! They brought with them a +Portuguese, who was much of a gentleman, but very poor; it was said that +he was one of Don Miguel’s people, and that these Englishmen supported +him for the love they bore to royalty. He was continually singing— + + ‘El Rey chegou—El Rey chegou, + E en Belem desembarcou!’ {235a} + +Those were merry days, _Don Jorge_. By-the-by, I forgot to ask your +worship of what opinion you are?” + +The next morning whilst I was dressing, the old Genoese entered my room: +“_Signore_,” said he, “I am come to bid you farewell. I am about to +return to Seville forthwith with the horses.” + +“Wherefore in such a hurry?” I replied. “Assuredly you had better tarry +till to-morrow; both the animals and yourself require rest. Repose +yourselves to-day, and I will defray the expense.” + +“Thank you, _Signore_, but we will depart forthwith, for there is no +tarrying in this house.” + +“What is the matter with the house?” I inquired. + +“I find no fault with the house,” replied the Genoese; “it is the people +who keep it of whom I complain. About an hour since, I went down to get +my breakfast, and there, in the kitchen, I found the master and all his +family. Well, I sat down and called for chocolate, which they brought +me, but ere I could despatch it, the master fell to talking politics. He +commenced by telling me that he held with neither side, but he is as rank +a Carlist as Carlos Quinto: {235b} for no sooner did he find that I was +of the other opinion than he glared at me like a wild beast. You must +know, _Signore_, that in the time of the old constitution I kept a +coffee-house at Seville, which was frequented by all the principal +liberals, and was, indeed, the cause of my ruin; for, as I admired their +opinions, I gave my customers whatever credit they required, both with +regard to coffee and liqueurs, so that by the time the constitution was +put down and despotism re-established, I had trusted them with all I had. +It is possible that many of them would have paid me, for I believe they +harboured no evil intention; but the persecution came, the liberals took +to flight, and, as was natural enough, thought more of providing for +their own safety than of paying me for my coffee and liqueurs; +nevertheless, I am a friend to their system, and never hesitate to say +so. So the landlord, as I told your worship before, when he found that I +was of this opinion, glared at me like a wild beast. ‘Get out of my +house,’ said he, ‘for I will have no spies here;’ and thereupon he spoke +disrespectfully of the young Queen Isabel and of Christina, who, +notwithstanding she is a Neapolitan, {236a} I consider as my +countrywoman. Hearing this, your worship, I confess that I lost my +temper and returned the compliment, by saying that Carlos was a knave, +and the Princess of Beira {236b} no better than she should be. I then +prepared to swallow the chocolate, but ere I could bring it to my lips, +the woman of the house, who is a still ranker Carlist than her husband, +if that be possible, coming up to me struck the cup into the air as high +as the ceiling, exclaiming, ‘Begone, dog of a _negro_; you shall taste +nothing more in my house. May you be hanged even as a swine is hanged!’ +So your worship sees that it is impossible for me to remain here any +longer. I forgot to say that the knave of a landlord told me that you +had confessed yourself to be of the same politics as himself, or he would +not have harboured you.” + +“My good man,” said I, “I am invariably of the politics of the people at +whose table I sit, or beneath whose roof I sleep; at least I never say +anything which can lead them to suspect the contrary; by pursuing which +system I have more than once escaped a bloody pillow, and having the wine +I drank spiced with sublimate.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Cordova—Moors of Barbary—The English—An Old Priest—The Roman Breviary—The +Dovecote—The Holy Office—Judaism—Desecration of Dovecotes—The Innkeeper’s +Proposal. + +Little can be said with respect to the town of Cordova, which is a mean, +dark, gloomy place, full of narrow streets and alleys, without squares or +public buildings worthy of attention, save and except its far-famed +cathedral; its situation, however, is beautiful and picturesque. Before +it runs the Guadalquivir, which, though in this part shallow and full of +sandbanks, is still a delightful stream; whilst behind it rise the steep +sides of the Sierra Morena, planted up to the top with olive groves. The +town or city is surrounded on all sides by lofty Moorish walls, which may +measure about three-quarters of a league in circumference; unlike +Seville, and most other towns in Spain, it has no suburbs. + + [Picture: Mosque at Cordova] + +I have said that Cordova has no remarkable edifices, save its cathedral, +yet this is perhaps the most extraordinary place of worship in the world. +It was originally, as is well known, a mosque, built in the brightest +days of Arabian dominion in Spain. In shape it was quadrangular, with a +low roof, supported by an infinity of small and delicately rounded marble +pillars, many of which still remain, and present at first sight the +appearance of a marble grove; the greater part, however, were removed +when the Christians, after the expulsion of the Moslems, essayed to +convert the mosque into a cathedral, {239} which they effected in part by +the erection of a dome, and by clearing an open space for a choir. As it +at present exists, the temple appears to belong partly to Mahomet, and +partly to the Nazarene; and though this jumbling together of massive +Gothic architecture with the light and delicate style of the Arabians +produces an effect somewhat bizarre, it still remains a magnificent and +glorious edifice, and well calculated to excite feelings of awe and +veneration within the bosom of those who enter it. + +The Moors of Barbary seem to care but little for the exploits of their +ancestors: their minds are centred in the things of the present day, and +only so far as those things regard themselves individually. +Disinterested enthusiasm, that truly distinguishing mark of a noble mind, +and admiration for what is great, good, and grand, they appear to be +totally incapable of feeling. It is astonishing with what indifference +they stray amongst the relics of ancient Moorish grandeur in Spain. No +feelings of exultation seem to be excited by the proof of what the Moor +once was, nor of regret at the consciousness of what he now is. More +interesting to them are their perfumes, their papouches, their dates, and +their silks of Fez and Maraks, {240a} to dispose of which they visit +Andalusia; and yet the generality of these men are far from being +ignorant, and have both heard and read of what was passing in Spain in +the old time. I was once conversing with a Moor at Madrid, with whom I +was very intimate, about the Alhambra of Granada, which he had visited. +“Did you not weep,” said I, “when you passed through the courts, and +thought of the Abencerrages?” {240b} “No,” said he, “I did not weep; +wherefore should I weep?” “And why did you visit the Alhambra?” I +demanded. “I visited it,” he replied, “because, being at Granada on my +own affairs, one of your countrymen requested me to accompany him +thither, that I might explain some of the inscriptions. I should +certainly not have gone of my own accord, for the hill on which it stands +is steep.” And yet this man could compose verses, and was by no means a +contemptible poet. Once at Cordova, whilst I was in the cathedral, three +Moors entered it, and proceeded slowly across its floor in the direction +of a gate, which stood at the opposite side. They took no farther notice +of what was around them than by slightly glancing once or twice at the +pillars, one of them exclaiming, “_Huáje __del Mselmeen_, _hudje del +Mselmeen_” (things of the Moors, things of the Moors), and showed no +other respect for the place where Abderrahman the Magnificent prostrated +himself of old, than facing about on arriving at the farther door and +making their egress backwards; yet these men were _hajis_ and _talibs_, +{241a} men likewise of much gold and silver—men who had read, who had +travelled, who had seen Mecca, and the great city of Negroland. {241b} + +I remained in Cordova much longer than I had originally intended, owing +to the accounts which I was continually hearing of the unsafe state of +the roads to Madrid. I soon ransacked every nook and cranny of this +ancient town, formed various acquaintances amongst the populace, which is +my general practice on arriving at a strange place. I more than once +ascended the side of the Sierra Morena, in which excursions I was +accompanied by the son of my host, the tall lad of whom I have already +spoken. The people of the house, who had imbibed the idea that I was of +the same way of thinking as themselves, were exceedingly courteous; it is +true, that in return I was compelled to listen to a vast deal of Carlism, +in other words, high treason against the ruling powers in Spain, to +which, however, I submitted with patience. “_Don Jorgito_,” said the +landlord to me one day, “I love the English; they are my best customers. +It is a pity that there is not greater union between Spain and England, +and that more English do not visit us. Why should there not be a +marriage? The king will speedily be at Madrid. Why should there not be +_bodas_ between the son of Don Carlos and the heiress of England?” + +“It would certainly tend to bring a considerable number of English to +Spain,” said I, “and it would not be the first time that the son of a +Carlos has married a Princess of England.” {242a} + +The host mused for a moment, and then exclaimed, “_Carracho_, _Don +Jorgito_, if this marriage could be brought about, both the king and +myself should have cause to fling our caps in the air.” + +The house or _posada_ in which I had taken up my abode was exceedingly +spacious, containing an infinity of apartments, both large and small, the +greater part of which were, however, unfurnished. The chamber in which I +was lodged stood at the end of an immensely long corridor, of the kind so +admirably described in the wondrous tale of Udolfo. {242b} For a day or +two after my arrival I believed myself to be the only lodger in the +house. One morning, however, I beheld a strange-looking old man seated +in the corridor, by one of the windows, reading intently in a small thick +volume. He was clad in garments of coarse blue cloth, and wore a loose +spencer over a waistcoat adorned with various rows of small buttons of +mother of pearl; he had spectacles upon his nose. I could perceive, +notwithstanding he was seated, that his stature bordered upon the +gigantic. “Who is that person?” said I to the landlord, whom I presently +met; “is he also a guest of yours?” “Not exactly, _Don Jorge de mi +alma_,” {243a} replied he. “I can scarcely call him a guest, inasmuch as +I gain nothing by him, though he is staying at my house. You must know, +_Don Jorge_, that he is one of two priests who officiate at a large +village {243b} at some slight distance from this place. So it came to +pass, that when the soldiers of Gomez entered the village, his reverence +went to meet them, dressed in full canonicals, with a book in his hand, +and he, at their bidding, proclaimed Carlos Quinto {243c} in the +market-place. The other priest, however, was a desperate liberal, a +downright _negro_, and upon him the royalists laid their hands, and were +proceeding to hang him. His reverence, however, interfered, and obtained +mercy for his colleague, on condition that he should cry _Viva Carlos +Quinto_! which the latter did in order to save his life. Well, no sooner +had the royalists departed from these parts than the black priest mounts +his mule, comes to Cordova, and informs against his reverence, +notwithstanding that he had saved his life. So his reverence was seized +and brought hither to Cordova, and would assuredly have been thrown into +the common prison as a Carlist, had I not stepped forward and offered to +be surety that he should not quit the place, but should come forward at +any time to answer whatever charge might be brought against him; and he +is now in my house, though guest I cannot call him, for he is not of the +slightest advantage to me, as his very food is daily brought from the +country, and that consists only of a few eggs and a little milk and +bread. As for his money, I have never seen the colour of it, +notwithstanding they tell me that he has _buenas pesetas_. However, he +is a holy man, is continually reading and praying, and is, moreover, of +the right opinion. I therefore keep him in my house, and would be bail +for him were he twenty times more of a skinflint than he seems to be.” + +The next day, as I was again passing through the corridor, I observed the +old man in the same place, and saluted him. He returned my salutation +with much courtesy, and closing the book, placed it upon his knee, as if +willing to enter into conversation. After exchanging a word or two, I +took up the book for the purpose of inspecting it. + +“You will hardly derive much instruction from that book, _Don Jorge_,” +said the old man; “you cannot understand it, for it is not written in +English.” + +“Nor in Spanish,” I replied. “But with respect to understanding the +book, I cannot see what difficulty there can be in a thing so simple; it +is only the Roman breviary written in the Latin tongue.” + +“Do the English understand Latin?” exclaimed he. “_Vaya_! Who would +have thought that it was possible for Lutherans to understand the +language of the church? _Vaya_! the longer one lives the more one +learns.” + +“How old may your reverence be?” I inquired. + +“I am eighty years, _Don Jorge_; eighty years, and somewhat more.” + +Such was the first conversation which passed between his reverence and +myself. He soon conceived no inconsiderable liking for me, and favoured +me with no little of his company. Unlike our friend the landlord, I +found him by no means inclined to talk politics, which the more surprised +me, knowing, as I did, the decided and hazardous part which he had taken +on the late Carlist irruption into the neighbourhood. He took, however, +great delight in discoursing on ecclesiastical subjects and the writings +of the fathers. + +“I have got a small library at home, _Don Jorge_, which consists of all +the volumes of the fathers which I have been able to pick up, and I find +the perusal of them a source of great amusement and comfort. Should +these dark days pass by, _Don Jorge_, and you should be in these parts, I +hope you will look in upon me, and I will show you my little library of +the fathers, and likewise my dovecote, where I rear numerous broods of +pigeons, which are also a source of much solace, and at the same time of +profit.” + +“I suppose by your dovecote,” said I, “you mean your parish, and by +rearing broods of pigeons, you allude to the care you take of the souls +of your people, instilling therein the fear of God and obedience to his +revealed law, which occupation must of course afford you much solace and +spiritual profit.” + +“I was not speaking metaphorically, _Don Jorge_,” replied my companion; +“and by rearing doves, I mean neither more nor less than that I supply +the market of Cordova with pigeons, and occasionally that of Seville; for +my birds are very celebrated, and plumper or fatter flesh than theirs I +believe cannot be found in the whole kingdom. Should you come to my +village, you will doubtless taste them, _Don Jorge_, at the _venta_ where +you will put up, for I suffer no dovecotes but my own within my district. +With respect to the souls of my parishioners, I trust I do my duty—I +trust I do, as far as in my power lies. I always took great pleasure in +these spiritual matters, and it was on that account that I attached +myself to the _Santa Casa_ {246} of Cordova, the duties of which I +assisted to perform for a long period.” + +“Your reverence has been an inquisitor?” I exclaimed, somewhat startled. + +“From my thirtieth year until the time of the suppression of the holy +office in these afflicted kingdoms.” + +“You both surprise and delight me,” I exclaimed. “Nothing could have +afforded me greater pleasure than to find myself conversing with a father +formerly attached to the holy house of Cordova.” + +The old man looked at me steadfastly. “I understand you, _Don Jorge_. I +have long seen that you are one of us. You are a learned and holy man; +and though you think fit to call yourself a Lutheran and an Englishman, I +have dived into your real condition. No Lutheran would take the interest +in church matters which you do, and with respect to your being an +Englishman, none of that nation can speak Castilian, much less Latin. I +believe you to be one of us—a missionary priest; and I am especially +confirmed in that idea by your frequent conversation and interviews with +the _Gitanos_; you appear to be labouring among them. Be, however, on +your guard, _Don Jorge_; trust not to Egyptian faith; they are evil +penitents, whom I like not. I would not advise you to trust them.” + +“I do not intend,” I replied; “especially with money. But to return to +more important matters:—of what crimes did this holy house of Cordova +take cognizance?” + +“You are of course aware of the matters on which the holy office +exercises its functions. I need scarcely mention sorcery, Judaism, and +certain carnal misdemeanours.” + +“With respect to sorcery,” said I, “what is your opinion of it? Is there +in reality such a crime?” + +“_Que sé yo_?” {247} said the old man, shrugging up his shoulders. “How +should I know? The church has power, _Don Jorge_, or at least it had +power, to punish for anything, real or unreal; and, as it was necessary +to punish in order to prove that it had the power of punishing, of what +consequence whether it punished for sorcery or any other crime?” + +“Did many cases of sorcery occur within your own sphere of knowledge?” + +“One or two, _Don Jorge_: they were by no means frequent. The last that +I remember was a case which occurred in a convent at Seville. A certain +nun was in the habit of flying through the windows and about the garden +over the tops of the orange-trees. Declarations of various witnesses +were taken, and the process was arranged with much formality: the fact, I +believe, was satisfactorily proved. Of one thing I am certain, that the +nun was punished.” + +“Were you troubled with much Judaism in these parts?” + +“Wooh! Nothing gave so much trouble to the _Santa Casa_ as this same +Judaism. Its shoots and ramifications are numerous, not only in these +parts, but in all Spain; and it is singular enough, that, even among the +priesthood, instances of Judaism of both kinds were continually coming to +our knowledge, which it was of course our duty to punish.” + +“Is there more than one species of Judaism?” I demanded. + +“I have always arranged Judaism under two heads,” said the old man, “the +black and the white: by the black, I mean the observance of the law of +Moses in preference to the precepts of the church; then there is the +white Judaism, which includes all kinds of heresy, such as Lutheranism, +freemasonry, and the like.” + +“I can easily conceive,” said I, “that many of the priesthood favoured +the principles of the Reformation, and that the minds of not a few had +been led astray by the deceitful lights of modern philosophy, but it is +almost inconceivable to me that there should be Jews amongst the +priesthood who follow in secret the rites and observances of the old law, +though I confess that I have been assured of the fact ere now.” + +“Plenty of Judaism amongst the priesthood, whether of the black or white +species; no lack of it, I assure you, _Don Jorge_. I remember once +searching the house of an ecclesiastic who was accused of the black +Judaism, and, after much investigation, we discovered beneath the floor a +wooden chest, in which was a small shrine of silver, inclosing three +books in black hog-skin, which, on being opened, were found to be books +of Jewish devotion, written in Hebrew characters, and of great antiquity; +and on being questioned, the culprit made no secret of his guilt, but +rather gloried in it, saying that there was no God but one, and +denouncing the adoration of _Maria Santísima_ as rank idolatry.” + +“And between ourselves, what is your own opinion of the adoration of this +same _Maria Santísima_?” + +“What is my opinion! _Que sé yo_?” said the old man, shrugging up his +shoulders still higher than on the former occasion; “but I will tell you. +I think, on consideration, that it is quite right and proper; why not? +Let any one pay a visit to my church, and look at her as she stands +there, _tan bonita_, _tan guapita_ {249a}—so well dressed and so +genteel—with such pretty colours, such red and white, and he would +scarcely ask me why _Maria Santísima_ should not be adored. Moreover, +_Don Jorgito mio_, this is a church matter, and forms an important part +of the church system.” + +“And now, with respect to carnal misdemeanours. Did you take much +cognizance of them?” + +“Amongst the laity, not much; we, however, kept a vigilant eye upon our +own body; but, upon the whole, were rather tolerant in these matters, +knowing that the infirmities of human nature are very great indeed. We +rarely punished, save in cases where the glory of the church and loyalty +to _Maria Santísima_ made punishment absolutely imperative.” + +“And what cases might those be?” I demanded. + +“I allude to the desecration of dovecotes, _Don Jorge_, and the +introduction therein of strange flesh, for purposes neither seemly nor +convenient.” + +“Your reverence will excuse me for not yet perfectly understanding.” + +“I mean, _Don Jorge_, certain acts of flagitiousness practised by the +clergy in lone and remote _palomares_ in olive-grounds and gardens; +actions denounced, I believe, by the holy Pablo in his first letter to +Pope Sixtus. {249b} You understand me now, _Don Jorge_, for you are +learned in church matters.” + +“I think I understand you,” I replied. + +After remaining several days more at Cordova, I determined to proceed on +my journey to Madrid, though the roads were still said to be highly +insecure. I, however, saw but little utility in tarrying and awaiting a +more tranquil state of affairs, which might never arrive. I therefore +consulted with the landlord respecting the best means of making the +journey. “_Don Jorgito_,” he replied, “I think I can tell you. You say +you are anxious to depart, and I never wish to keep guests in my house +longer than is agreeable to them; to do so would not become a Christian +innkeeper. I leave such conduct to Moors, _Cristinos_, and _Negros_. I +will further you on your journey, _Don Jorge_: I have a plan in my head +which I had resolved to propose to you before you questioned me. There +is my wife’s brother, who has two horses which he occasionally lets out +for hire; you shall hire them, _Don Jorge_, and he himself shall attend +you to take care of you and to comfort you, and to talk to you, and you +shall pay him forty dollars for the journey. Moreover, as there are +thieves upon the route, and _malos sujetos_ {250} such as Palillos and +his family, you shall make an engagement and a covenant, _Don Jorge_, +that provided you are robbed and stripped on the route, and the horses of +my wife’s brother are taken from him by the thieves, you shall, on +arriving at Madrid, make good any losses to which my wife’s brother may +be subject in following you. This is my plan, _Don Jorge_, which no +doubt will meet with your worship’s approbation, as it is devised solely +for your benefit, and not with any view of lucre or interest either to me +or mine. You will find my wife’s brother pleasant company on the route; +he is a very respectable man, and one of the right opinion, and has +likewise travelled much; for between ourselves, _Don Jorge_, he is +something of a _contrabandista_, and frequently smuggles diamonds and +precious stones from Portugal, which he disposes of sometimes in Cordova +and sometimes at Madrid. He is acquainted with all the short cuts, all +the _atajos_, _Don Jorge_, and is much respected in all the _ventas_ and +_posadas_ on the way. So now give me your hand upon the bargain, and I +will forthwith repair to my wife’s brother to tell him to get ready to +set out with your worship the day after to-morrow.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Departure from Cordova—The Contrabandista—Jewish Cunning—Arrival at +Madrid. + +One fine morning I departed from Cordova, in company with the +_contrabandista_; the latter was mounted on a handsome animal, something +between a horse and a pony, which he called a _jaca_, of that breed for +which Cordova is celebrated. It was of a bright bay colour, with a star +in its forehead, with strong but elegant limbs, and a long black tail +which swept the ground. The other animal, which was destined to carry me +to Madrid, was not quite so prepossessing in its appearance. In more +than one respect it closely resembled a hog, particularly in the curving +of its back, the shortness of its neck, and the manner in which it kept +its head nearly in contact with the ground; it had also the tail of a +hog, and meandered over the ground much like one. Its coat more +resembled coarse bristles than hair; and with respect to size, I have +seen many a Westphalian hog quite as tall. I was not altogether +satisfied with the idea of exhibiting myself on the back of this most +extraordinary quadruped, and looked wistfully on the respectable animal +on which my guide had thought proper to place himself. He interpreted my +glances, and gave me to understand that as he was destined to carry the +baggage, he was entitled to the best horse—a plea too well grounded on +reason for me to make any objection to it. + +I found the _contrabandista_ by no means such pleasant company on the +road as I had been led to suppose he would prove from the representation +of my host of Cordova. Throughout the day he sat sullen and silent, and +rarely replied to my questions, save by a monosyllable; at night, +however, after having eaten well and drunk proportionably at my expense, +he would occasionally become more sociable and communicative. “I have +given up smuggling,” said he, on one of these occasions, “owing to a +trick which was played upon me the last time that I was at Lisbon: a Jew, +whom I had been long acquainted with, palmed upon me a false brilliant +for a real stone. He effected it in the most extraordinary manner, for I +am not such a novice as not to know a true diamond when I see one; but +the Jew appears to have had two, with which he played most adroitly, +keeping the valuable one for which I bargained, and substituting therefor +another which, though an excellent imitation, was not worth four dollars. +I did not discover the trick until I was across the border, and upon my +hurrying back, the culprit was not to be found; his priest, however, told +me that he was just dead and buried, which was of course false, as I saw +him laughing in the corners of his eyes. I renounced the contraband +trade from that moment.” + +It is not my intention to describe minutely the various incidents of this +journey. Leaving at our right the mountains of Jaen, we passed through +Andujar and Bailen, and on the third day reached Carolina, a small but +beautiful town on the skirts of the Sierra Morena, inhabited by the +descendants of German colonists. Two leagues from this place we entered +the defile of Despeñaperros, which, even in quiet times, has an evil +name, on account of the robberies which are continually being perpetrated +within its recesses, but at the period of which I am speaking, it was +said to be swarming with banditti. We of course expected to be robbed, +perhaps stripped and otherwise ill treated; but Providence here +manifested itself. It appeared that the day before our arrival, the +banditti of the pass had committed a dreadful robbery and murder, by +which they gained forty thousand _reals_. {254a} This booty probably +contented them for a time: certain it is that we were not interrupted. +We did not even see a single individual in the pass, though we +occasionally heard whistles and loud cries. We entered La Mancha, where +I expected to fall into the hands of Palillos and Orejita. {254b} +Providence again showed itself. It had been delicious weather; suddenly +the Lord breathed forth a frozen blast, the severity of which was almost +intolerable. No human being but ourselves ventured forth. We traversed +snow-covered plains, and passed through villages and towns to all +appearance deserted. The robbers kept close in their caves and hovels, +but the cold nearly killed us. We reached Aranjuez late on +Christmas-day, and I got into the house of an Englishman, where I +swallowed nearly a pint of brandy: it affected me no more than warm +water. + +On the following day we arrived at Madrid, where we had the good fortune +to find everything tranquil and quiet. The _contrabandista_ continued +with me for two days, at the end of which time he returned to Cordova +upon the uncouth animal on which I had ridden throughout the journey. I +had myself purchased the _jaca_, whose capabilities I had seen on the +route, and which I imagined might prove useful in future journeys. The +_contrabandista_ was so satisfied with the price which I gave him for his +beast, and the general treatment which he had experienced at my hands +during the time of his attendance upon me, that he would fain have +persuaded me to retain him as a servant, assuring me that, in the event +of my compliance, he would forget his wife and children and follow me +through the world. I declined, however, to accede to his request, though +I was in need of a domestic; I therefore sent him back to Cordova, where, +as I subsequently learned, he died suddenly, about a week after his +return. + +The manner of his death was singular: one day he took out his purse, and, +after counting his money, said to his wife, “I have made ninety-five +dollars by this journey with the Englishman and by the sale of the +_jaca_; this I could easily double by one successful venture in the +smuggling lay. To-morrow I will depart for Lisbon to buy diamonds. I +wonder if the beast requires to be shod?” He then started up and made +for the door, with the intention of going to the stable; ere, however, +his foot had crossed the threshold, he fell dead on the floor. Such is +the course of the world. Well said the wise king, “Let no one boast of +the morrow.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Arrival at Madrid—Maria Diaz—Printing of the Testament—My +Project—Andalusian Steed—Servant wanted—An Application—Antonio +Buchini—General Cordova—Principles of Honour. + +On my arrival at Madrid I did not repair to my former lodgings in the +Calle de la Zarza, but took others in the Calle de Santiago, in the +vicinity of the palace. The name of the hostess (for there was, properly +speaking, no host) was Maria Diaz, of whom I shall take the present +opportunity of saying something in particular. + +She was a woman of about thirty-five years of age, rather good-looking, +and with a physiognomy every lineament of which bespoke intelligence of +no common order. Her eyes were keen and penetrating, though occasionally +clouded with a somewhat melancholy expression. There was a particular +calmness and quiet in her general demeanour, beneath which, however, +slumbered a firmness of spirit and an energy of action which were +instantly displayed whenever necessary. A Spaniard, and, of course, a +Catholic, she was possessed of a spirit of toleration and liberality +which would have done honour to individuals much her superior in station. +In this woman, during the remainder of my sojourn in Spain, I found a +firm and constant friend, and occasionally a most discreet adviser. She +entered into all my plans, I will not say with enthusiasm, which, indeed, +formed no part of her character, but with cordiality and sincerity, +forwarding them to the utmost of her ability. She never shrank from me +in the hour of danger and persecution, but stood my friend +notwithstanding the many inducements which were held out to her by my +enemies to desert or betray me. Her motives were of the noblest +kind—friendship, and a proper feeling of the duties of hospitality: no +prospect, no hope of self-interest, however remote, influenced this +admirable woman in her conduct towards me. Honour to Maria Diaz, the +quiet, dauntless, clever Castilian female! I were an ingrate not to +speak well of her, for richly has she deserved an eulogy in the humble +pages of _The Bible in Spain_. + +She was a native of Villa Seca, a hamlet of New Castile, situated in what +is called the Sagra, {257} at about three leagues’ distance from Toledo. +Her father was an architect of some celebrity, particularly skilled in +erecting bridges. At a very early age she married a respectable yeoman +of Villa Seca, Lopez by name, by whom she had three sons. On the death +of her father, which occurred about five years previous to the time of +which I am speaking, she removed to Madrid, partly for the purpose of +educating her children, and partly in the hope of obtaining from the +government a considerable sum of money for which it stood indebted to her +father at the time of his decease, for various useful and ornamental +works, principally in the neighbourhood of Aranjuez. The justness of her +claim was at once acknowledged; but, alas! no money was forthcoming, the +royal treasury being empty. Her hopes of earthly happiness were now +concentrated in her children. The two youngest were still of a very +tender age; but the eldest, Juan José Lopez, a lad of about sixteen, was +bidding fair to realize the warmest hopes of his affectionate mother. He +had devoted himself to the arts, in which he had made such progress that +he had already become the favourite pupil of his celebrated namesake +Lopez, {258} the best painter of modern Spain. Such was Maria Diaz, who, +according to a custom formerly universal in Spain, and still very +prevalent, retained the name of her maidenhood though married. Such was +Maria Diaz and her family. + +One of my first cares was to wait on Mr. Villiers, who received me with +his usual kindness. I asked him whether he considered that I might +venture to commence printing the Scriptures without any more applications +to government. His reply was satisfactory: “You obtained the permission +of the government of Isturitz,” said he, “which was a much less liberal +one than the present. I am a witness to the promise made to you by the +former ministers, which I consider sufficient. You had best commence and +complete the work as soon as possible, without any fresh application; and +should any one attempt to interrupt you, you have only to come to me, +whom you may command at any time.” So I went away with a light heart, +and forthwith made preparation for the execution of the object which had +brought me to Spain. + +I shall not enter here into unnecessary details, which could possess but +little interest for the reader; suffice it to say that, within three +months from this time, an edition of the New Testament, consisting of +five thousand copies, was published at Madrid. The work was printed at +the establishment of Mr. Borrego, {259a} a well-known writer on political +economy, and proprietor and editor of an influential newspaper called _El +Español_. To this gentleman I had been recommended by Isturitz himself, +on the day of my interview with him. That unfortunate minister had, +indeed, the highest esteem for Borrego, and had intended raising him to +the station of minister of finance, when the revolution of La Granja +occurring, of course rendered abortive this project, with perhaps many +others of a similar kind which he might have formed. + +The Spanish version of the New Testament which was thus published had +been made many years before by a certain Padre Filipe Scio, {259b} +confessor of Ferdinand the Seventh, and had even been printed, but so +encumbered by notes and commentaries as to be unfitted for general +circulation, for which, indeed, it was never intended. In the present +edition the notes were of course omitted, and the inspired word, and that +alone, offered to the public. It was brought out in a handsome octavo +volume, and presented, upon the whole, a rather favourable specimen of +Spanish typography. The mere printing, however, of the New Testament at +Madrid could be attended with no utility whatever, unless measures, and +energetic ones, were taken for the circulation of the sacred volume. + +In the case of the New Testament it would not do to follow the usual plan +of publication in Spain, namely, to entrust the work to the booksellers +of the capital, and rest content with the sale which they and their +agents in the provincial towns might be able to obtain for it in the +common routine of business; the result generally being the circulation of +a few dozen copies in the course of the year: as the demand for +literature of every kind in Spain was miserably small. + +The Christians of England had already made considerable sacrifices in the +hope of disseminating the word of God largely amongst the Spaniards, and +it was now necessary to spare no exertion to prevent that hope becoming +abortive. Before the book was ready I had begun to make preparations for +putting a plan into execution, which had occupied my thoughts +occasionally during my former visit to Spain, and which I had never +subsequently abandoned. I had mused on it when off Cape Finisterre in +the tempest, in the cut-throat passes of the Sierra Morena, and on the +plains of La Mancha, as I jogged along a little way ahead of the +_contrabandista_. + +I had determined, after depositing a certain number of copies in the +shops of the booksellers of Madrid, to ride forth, Testament in hand, and +endeavour to circulate the word of God amongst the Spaniards, not only of +the towns, but of the villages; amongst the children not only of the +plains, but of the hills and mountains. I intended to visit Old Castile, +and to traverse the whole of Galicia and the Asturias; to establish +Scripture depôts in the principal towns, and to visit the people in +secret and secluded spots; to talk to them of Christ, to explain to them +the nature of His book, and to place that book in the hands of those whom +I should deem capable of deriving benefit from it. I was aware that such +a journey would be attended with considerable danger, and very possibly +the fate of St. Stephen might overtake me; but does the man deserve the +name of a follower of Christ who would shrink from danger of any kind in +the cause of Him whom he calls his Master? “He who loses his life for my +sake shall find it,” are words which the Lord Himself uttered. These +words were fraught with consolation to me, as they doubtless are to every +one engaged in propagating the Gospel in sincerity of heart, in savage +and barbarian lands. . . . + +I now purchased another horse; for these animals, at the time of which I +am speaking, were exceedingly cheap. A royal requisition was about to be +issued for five thousand, the consequence being that an immense number +were for sale, for, by virtue of this requisition, the horses of any +person not a foreigner could be seized for the benefit of the service. +It was probable that, when the number was made up, the price of horses +would be treble what it then was, which consideration induced me to +purchase this animal before I exactly wanted him. He was a black +Andalusian stallion {261} of great power and strength, and capable of +performing a journey of a hundred leagues in a week’s time; but he was +unbroke, savage, and furious. A cargo of Bibles, however, which I hoped +occasionally to put on his back, would, I had no doubt, thoroughly tame +him, especially when labouring up the flinty hills of the north of Spain. +I wished to have purchased a mule, but, though I offered thirty pounds +for a sorry one, I could not obtain her; whereas the cost of both the +horses—tall, powerful, stately animals—scarcely amounted to that sum. + +The state of the surrounding country at this time was not very favourable +for venturing forth. Cabrera {262} was within nine leagues of Madrid, +with an army nearly ten thousand strong; he had beaten several small +detachments of the queen’s troops, and had ravaged La Mancha with fire +and sword, burning several towns. Bands of affrighted fugitives were +arriving every hour, bringing tidings of woe and disaster; and I was only +surprised that the enemy did not appear, and by taking Madrid, which was +almost at his mercy, put an end to the war at once. But the truth is, +that the Carlist generals did not wish the war to cease, for as long as +the country was involved in bloodshed and anarchy they could plunder, and +exercise that lawless authority so dear to men of fierce and brutal +passions. Cabrera, moreover, was a dastardly wretch, whose limited mind +was incapable of harbouring a single conception approaching to +grandeur—whose heroic deeds were confined to cutting down defenceless +men, and to forcing and disembowelling unhappy women; and yet I have seen +this wretched fellow termed by French journals (Carlist, of course) the +young, the heroic general! Infamy on the cowardly assassin! The +shabbiest corporal of Napoleon would have laughed at his generalship, and +half a battalion of Austrian grenadiers would have driven him and his +rabble army headlong into the Ebro. {263} + +I now made preparations for my journey into the north. I was already +provided with horses well calculated to support the fatigues of the road +and the burdens which I might deem necessary to impose upon them. One +thing, however, was still lacking, indispensable to a person about to +engage on an expedition of this description; I mean a servant to attend +me. Perhaps there is no place in the world where servants more abound +than at Madrid, or at least fellows eager to proffer their services in +the expectation of receiving food and wages, though, with respect to the +actual service which they are capable of performing, not much can be +said; but I was in want of a servant of no common description, a shrewd +active fellow, of whose advice, in cases of emergency, I could +occasionally avail myself; courageous withal, for it certainly required +some degree of courage to follow a master bent on exploring the greater +part of Spain, and who intended to travel, not under the protection of +muleteers and carmen, but on his own _cabalgaduras_. Such a servant, +perhaps, I might have sought for years without finding; chance, however, +brought one to my hand at the very time I wanted him, without it being +necessary for me to make any laborious perquisitions. I was one day +mentioning the subject to Mr. Borrego, at whose establishment I had +printed the New Testament, and inquiring whether he thought that such an +individual was to be found in Madrid, adding that I was particularly +anxious to obtain a servant who, besides Spanish, could speak some other +language, that occasionally we might discourse without being understood +by those who might overhear us. “The very description of person,” he +replied, “that you appear to be in need of, quitted me about half an hour +ago, and, it is singular enough, came to me in the hope that I might be +able to recommend him to a master. He has been twice in my service: for +his talent and courage I will answer; and I believe him to be +trustworthy, at least to masters who may chime in with his humour, for I +must inform you that he is a most extraordinary fellow, full of strange +likes and antipathies, which he will gratify at any expense, either to +himself or others. Perhaps he will attach himself to you, in which case +you will find him highly valuable; for, if he please, he can turn his +hand to anything, and is not only acquainted with two, but half a dozen +languages.” + +“Is he a Spaniard?” I inquired. + +“I will send him to you to-morrow,” said Borrego, “you will best learn +from his own mouth who and what he is.” + +The next day, as I had just sat down to my _sopa_, my hostess informed me +that a man wished to speak to me. “Admit him,” said I, and he almost +instantly made his appearance. He was dressed respectably in the French +fashion, and had rather a juvenile look, though I subsequently learned +that he was considerably above forty. He was somewhat above the middle +stature, and might have been called well made, had it not been for his +meagreness, which was rather remarkable. His arms were long and bony, +and his whole form conveyed an idea of great activity united with no +slight degree of strength. His hair was wiry, but of jetty blackness; +his forehead low; his eyes small and grey, expressive of much subtlety +and no less malice, strangely relieved by a strong dash of humour; the +nose was handsome, but the mouth was immensely wide, and his under jaw +projected considerably. A more singular physiognomy I had never seen, +and I continued staring at him for some time in silence. “Who are you?” +I at last demanded. + +“Domestic in search of a master,” answered the man in good French, but in +a strange accent. “I come recommended to you, my Lor, by _Monsieur_ +B---.” + +_Myself_.—Of what nation may you be? Are you French or Spanish? + +_Man_.—God forbid that I should be either, _mi Lor_; _j’ai l’honneur +d’être de la nation Grecque_; my name is Antonio Buchini, native of Pera +the Belle, {265a} near to Constantinople. + +_Myself_.—And what brought you to Spain? + +_Buchini_.—_Mi Lor_, _je vais vous raconter mon histoire du commencement +jusqu’ici_. My father was a native of Sceira, {265b} in Greece, from +whence at an early age he repaired to Pera, where he served as janitor in +the hotels of various ambassadors, by whom he was much respected for his +fidelity. Amongst others of these gentlemen, he served him of your own +nation: this occurred at the time that there was war between England and +the Porte. {266a} _Monsieur_ the ambassador had to escape for his life, +leaving the greater part of his valuables to the care of my father, who +concealed them at his own great risk, and when the dispute was settled, +restored them to monsieur, even to the most inconsiderable trinket. I +mention this circumstance to show you that I am of a family which +cherishes principles of honour, and in which confidence may be placed. +My father married a daughter of Pera, _et moi je suis l’unique fruit de +ce mariage_. Of my mother I know nothing, as she died shortly after my +birth. A family of wealthy Jews took pity on my forlorn condition and +offered to bring me up, to which my father gladly consented; and with +them I continued several years, until I was a _beau garçon_; they were +very fond of me, and at last offered to adopt me, and at their death to +bequeath me all they had, on condition of my becoming a Jew. _Mais la +circoncision n’étoit guère à mon goût_, especially that of the Jews, for +I am a Greek, am proud, and have principles of honour. I quitted them, +therefore, saying that if ever I allowed myself to be converted, it +should be to the faith of the Turks, for they are men, are proud, and +have principles of honour like myself. I then returned to my father, who +procured me various situations, none of which were to my liking, until I +was placed in the house of _Monsieur_ Zea. + +_Myself_.—You mean, I suppose, Zea Bermudez, {266b} who chanced to be at +Constantinople. + +_Buchini_.—Just so, _mi Lor_, and with him I continued during his stay. +He put great confidence in me, more especially as I spoke the pure +Spanish language, which I acquired amongst the Jews, who, as I have heard +_Monsieur_ Zea say, speak it better than the present natives of Spain. + +I shall not follow the Greek step by step throughout his history, which +was rather lengthy: suffice it to say, that he was brought by Zea +Bermudez from Constantinople to Spain, where he continued in his service +for many years, and from whose house he was expelled for marrying a +Guipuzcoan damsel, who was _fille de chambre_ to _Madame_ Zea; since +which time it appeared that he had served an infinity of masters, +sometimes as valet, sometimes as cook, but generally in the last +capacity. He confessed, however, that he had seldom continued more than +three days in the same service, on account of the disputes which were +sure to arise in the house almost immediately after his admission, and +for which he could assign no other reason than his being a Greek, and +having principles of honour. Amongst other persons whom he had served +was General Cordova, who he said was a bad paymaster, and was in the +habit of maltreating his domestics. “But he found his match in me,” said +Antonio, “for I was prepared for him; and once, when he drew his sword +against me, I pulled out a pistol and pointed it in his face. He grew +pale as death, and from that hour treated me with all kinds of +condescension. It was only pretence, however, for the affair rankled in +his mind; he had determined upon revenge, and on being appointed to the +command of the army, he was particularly anxious that I should attend him +to the camp. _Mais je lui ris au nez_, made the sign of the +_cortamanga_, {268} asked for my wages, and left him; and well it was +that I did so, for the very domestic whom he took with him he caused to +be shot upon a charge of mutiny.” + +“I am afraid,” said I, “that you are of a turbulent disposition, and that +the disputes to which you have alluded are solely to be attributed to the +badness of your temper.” + +“What would you have, _Monsieur_? _Moi je suis Grec_, _je suis fier_, +_et j’ai des principes d’honneur_. I expect to be treated with a certain +consideration, though I confess that my temper is none of the best, and +that at times I am tempted to quarrel with the pots and pans in the +kitchen. I think, upon the whole, that it will be for your advantage to +engage me, and I promise you to be on my guard. There is one thing that +pleases me relating to you, you are unmarried. Now, I would rather serve +a young unmarried man for love and friendship, than a Benedick for fifty +dollars per month. _Madame_ is sure to hate me, and so is her +waiting-woman; and more particularly the latter, because I am a married +man. I see that _mi Lor_ is willing to engage me.” + +“But you say you are a married man,” I replied; “how can you desert your +wife? for I am about to leave Madrid, and to travel into the remote and +mountainous parts of Spain.” + +“My wife will receive the moiety of my wages while I am absent, _mi Lor_, +and therefore will have no reason to complain of being deserted. +Complain! did I say; my wife is at present too well instructed to +complain. She never speaks nor sits in my presence, unless I give her +permission. Am I not a Greek, and do I not know how to govern my own +house? Engage me, _mi Lor_; I am a man of many capacities—a discreet +valet, an excellent cook, a good groom and light rider; in a word, I am +Ρωμαϊκός. {269a} What would you more?” + +I asked him his terms, which were extravagant, notwithstanding his +_principes d’honneur_. I found, however, that he was willing to take +one-half. + +I had no sooner engaged him than, seizing the tureen of soup, which had +by this time become quite cold, he placed it on the top of his fore +finger, or rather on the nail thereof, causing it to make various +circumvolutions over his head, to my great astonishment, without spilling +a drop, then springing with it to the door, he vanished, and in another +moment made his appearance with the _puchera_, which, after a similar +bound and flourish, he deposited on the table; then suffering his hands +to sink before him, he put one over the other, and stood at his ease, +with half-shut eyes, for all the world as if he had been in my service +twenty years. + +And in this manner Antonio Buchini entered upon his duties. Many was the +wild spot to which he subsequently accompanied me; many the wild +adventure of which he was the sharer. His behaviour was frequently in +the highest degree extraordinary, but he served me courageously and +faithfully: such a valet, take him for all in all— + + “His like I ne’er expect to see again.” + +_Kosko bakh_, _Anton_. {269b} + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Illness—Nocturnal Visit—A Master Mind—The Whisper—Salamanca—Irish +Hospitality—Spanish Soldiers—The Scriptures advertised. + +But I am anxious to enter upon the narrative of my journey, and shall +therefore abstain from relating to my readers a great many circumstances +which occurred previously to my leaving Madrid on this expedition. About +the middle of May I had got everything in readiness, and I bade farewell +to my friends. Salamanca was the first place which I intended to visit. + +Some days previous to my departure I was very much indisposed, owing to +the state of the weather, for violent and biting winds had long +prevailed. I had been attacked with a severe cold, which terminated in a +disagreeable cough, which the many remedies I successively tried seemed +unable to subdue. I had made preparations for departing on a particular +day, but, owing to the state of my health, I was apprehensive that I +should be compelled to defer my journey for a time. The last day of my +stay in Madrid, finding myself scarcely able to stand, I was fain to +submit to a somewhat desperate experiment, and by the advice of the +barber-surgeon who visited me, I determined to be bled. Late on the +night of that same day he took from me sixteen ounces of blood, and +having received his fee left me, wishing me a pleasant journey, and +assuring me, upon his reputation, that by noon the next day I should be +perfectly recovered. + +A few minutes after his departure, whilst I was sitting alone, meditating +on the journey which I was about to undertake, and on the rickety state +of my health, I heard a loud knock at the street door of the house, on +the third floor of which I was lodged. In another minute Mr. S---, {271} +of the British embassy, entered my apartment. After a little +conversation, he informed me that Mr. Villiers had desired him to wait +upon me to communicate a resolution which he had come to. Being +apprehensive that, alone and unassisted, I should experience great +difficulty in propagating the Gospel of God to any considerable extent in +Spain, he was bent upon exerting to the utmost his own credit and +influence to further my views, which he himself considered, if carried +into proper effect, extremely well calculated to operate beneficially on +the political and moral state of the country. To this end it was his +intention to purchase a very considerable number of copies of the New +Testament, and to dispatch them forthwith to the various British consuls +established in different parts of Spain, with strict and positive orders +to employ all the means which their official situation should afford them +to circulate the books in question, and to assure their being noticed. +They were, moreover, to be charged to afford me, whenever I should appear +in their respective districts, all the protection, encouragement, and +assistance which I should stand in need of. I was of course much +rejoiced on receiving this information, for, though I had long been aware +that Mr. Villiers was at all times willing to assist me, he having +frequently given me sufficient proof, I could never expect that he would +come forward in so noble, and, to say the least of it, considering his +high diplomatic situation, so bold and decided a manner. I believe that +this was the first instance of a British ambassador having made the cause +of the Bible Society a national one, or indeed of having favoured it +directly or indirectly. What renders the case of Mr. Villiers more +remarkable is that, on my first arrival at Madrid, I found him by no +means well disposed towards the Society. The Holy Spirit had probably +illumined his mind on this point. I hoped that by his means our +institution would shortly possess many agents in Spain, who, with far +more power and better opportunities than I myself could ever expect to +possess, would scatter abroad the seed of the Gospel, and make of a +barren and thirsty wilderness a green and smiling corn-field. + +A word or two about the gentleman who paid me this nocturnal visit. +Though he has probably long since forgotten the humble circulator of the +Bible in Spain, I still bear in mind numerous acts of kindness which I +experienced at his hands. Endowed with an intellect of the highest +order, master of the lore of all Europe, profoundly versed in the ancient +tongues and speaking most of the modern dialects with remarkable +facility—possessed, moreover, of a thorough knowledge of mankind—he +brought with him into the diplomatic career advantages such as few, even +the most highly gifted, can boast of. During his sojourn in Spain he +performed many eminent services for the government which employed him; +services which, I believe, it had sufficient discernment to see, and +gratitude to reward. He had to encounter, however, the full brunt of the +low and stupid malignity of the party who, shortly after the time of +which I am speaking, usurped the management of the affairs of Spain. +This party, whose foolish manœuvres he was continually discomfiting, +feared and hated him as its evil genius, taking every opportunity of +showering on his head calumnies the most improbable and absurd. Amongst +other things, he was accused of having acted as an agent to the English +government in the affair of La Granja, bringing about that revolution by +bribing the mutinous soldiers, and more particularly the notorious +Sergeant Garcia. Such an accusation will of course merely extract a +smile from those who are at all acquainted with the English character, +and the general line of conduct pursued by the English government. It +was a charge, however, universally believed in Spain, and was even +preferred in print by a certain journal, the official organ of the silly +Duke of Frias, one of the many prime ministers of the _moderado_ party +who followed each other in rapid succession towards the latter period of +the Carlist and _Cristino_ struggle. But when did a calumnious report +ever fall to the ground in Spain by the weight of its own absurdity? +Unhappy land! not until the pure light of the Gospel has illumined thee, +wilt thou learn that the greatest of all gifts is charity! + +The next day verified the prediction of the Spanish surgeon; I had to a +considerable degree lost my cough and fever, though, owing to the loss of +blood, I was somewhat feeble. Precisely at twelve o’clock the horses +were led forth before the door of my lodging in the Calle de Santiago, +and I prepared to mount; but my black _entero_ of Andalusia would not +permit me to approach his side, and, whenever I made the attempt, +commenced wheeling round with great rapidity. + +“_C’est un mauvais signe_, _mon maître_,” said Antonio, who, dressed in a +green jerkin, a _montero_ cap, and booted and spurred, stood ready to +attend me, holding by the bridle the horse which I had purchased from the +_contrabandista_. “It is a bad sign, and in my country they would defer +the journey till to-morrow.” + +“Are there whisperers in your country?” I demanded; and taking the horse +by the mane, I performed the ceremony after the most approved fashion. +The animal stood still, and I mounted the saddle, exclaiming— + + “The _Romany chal_ {274a} to his horse did cry, + As he placed the bit in his horse’s jaw, + ‘Kosko gry! Romany gry! + Muk man kistur tute knaw.’” {274b} + +We then rode forth from Madrid by the gate of San Vicente, directing our +course to the lofty mountains which separate Old from New Castile. That +night we rested at Guadarrama, a large village at their foot, distant +from Madrid about seven leagues. Rising early on the following morning, +we ascended the pass and entered into Old Castile. + +After crossing the mountains, the route to Salamanca lies almost entirely +over sandy and arid plains, interspersed here and there with thin and +scanty groves of pine. No adventure worth relating occurred during this +journey. We sold a few Testaments in the villages through which we +passed, more especially at Peñaranda. About noon of the third day, on +reaching the brow of a hillock, we saw a huge dome before us, upon which +the fierce rays of the sun striking, produced the appearance of burnished +gold. It belonged to the cathedral of Salamanca, and we flattered +ourselves that we were already at our journey’s end; we were deceived, +however, being still four leagues distant from the town, whose churches +and convents, towering up in gigantic masses, can be distinguished at an +immense distance, flattering the traveller with an idea of propinquity +which does not in reality exist. It was not till long after nightfall +that we arrived at the city gate, which we found closed and guarded, in +apprehension of a Carlist attack; and having obtained admission with some +difficulty, we led our horses along dark, silent, and deserted streets, +till we found an individual who directed us to a large, gloomy, and +comfortless _posada_, that of the Bull, which we, however, subsequently +found was the best which the town afforded. + +A melancholy town is Salamanca; the days of its collegiate glory are long +since past by, never more to return: a circumstance, however, which is +little to be regretted; for what benefit did the world ever derive from +scholastic philosophy? And for that alone was Salamanca ever famous. +Its halls are now almost silent, and grass is growing in its courts, +which were once daily thronged by at least eight thousand students; a +number to which, at the present day, the entire population of the city +does not amount. Yet, with all its melancholy, what an interesting, nay, +what a magnificent place is Salamanca! How glorious are its churches, +how stupendous are its deserted convents, and with what sublime but +sullen grandeur do its huge and crumbling walls, which crown the +precipitous bank of the Tormes, look down upon the lovely river and its +venerable bridge! + +What a pity that, of the many rivers of Spain, scarcely one is navigable! +The beautiful but shallow Tormes, instead of proving a source of blessing +and wealth to this part of Castile, is of no further utility than to turn +the wheels of various small water mills, standing upon weirs of stone, +which at certain distances traverse the river. + +My sojourn at Salamanca was rendered particularly pleasant by the kind +attentions and continual acts of hospitality which I experienced from the +inmates of the Irish College, to the rector of which I bore a letter of +recommendation from my kind and excellent friend Mr. O’Shea, the +celebrated banker of Madrid. It will be long before I forget these +Irish, more especially their head, Dr. Gartland, a genuine scion of the +good Hibernian tree, an accomplished scholar, and a courteous and +high-minded gentleman. Though fully aware who I was, he held out the +hand of friendship to the wandering heretic missionary, although by so +doing he exposed himself to the rancorous remarks of the narrow-minded +native clergy, who, in their ugly shovel hats and long cloaks, glared at +me askance as I passed by their whispering groups beneath the _piazzas_ +of the _Plaza_. But when did the fear of consequences cause an Irishman +to shrink from the exercise of the duties of hospitality? However +attached to his religion—and who is so attached to the Romish creed as +the Irishman?—I am convinced that not all the authority of the Pope or +the Cardinals would induce him to close his doors on Luther himself, were +that respectable personage at present alive and in need of food and +refuge. + +Honour to Ireland and her “hundred thousand welcomes!” {277a} Her fields +have long been the greenest in the world; her daughters the fairest; her +sons the bravest and most eloquent. May they never cease to be so! + +The _posada_ where I had put up was a good specimen of the old Spanish +inn, being much the same as those described in the time of Philip the +Third or Fourth. The rooms were many and large, floored with either +brick or stone, generally with an alcove at the end, in which stood a +wretched flock bed. Behind the house was a court, and in the rear of +this a stable, full of horses, ponies, mules, _machos_, and donkeys, for +there was no lack of guests, who, however, for the most part slept in the +stable with their _caballerias_, being either _arrieros_ or small +peddling merchants who travelled the country with coarse cloth or linen. +Opposite to my room in the corridor lodged a wounded officer, who had +just arrived from San Sebastian on a galled broken-kneed pony: he was an +Estrimenian, {277b} and was returning to his own village to be cured. He +was attended by three broken soldiers, lame or maimed, and unfit for +service: they told me that they were of the same village as his worship, +and on that account he permitted them to travel with him. They slept +amongst the litter, and throughout the day lounged about the house +smoking paper cigars. I never saw them eating, though they frequently +went to a dark cool corner, where stood a _bota_ or kind of water +pitcher, which they held about six inches from their black filmy lips, +permitting the liquid to trickle down their throats. They said they had +no pay, and were quite destitute of money, that _su merced_ the officer +occasionally gave them a piece of bread, but that he himself was poor and +had only a few dollars. Brave guests for an inn, thought I; yet, to the +honour of Spain be it spoken, it is one of the few countries in Europe +where poverty is never insulted nor looked upon with contempt. Even at +an inn, the poor man is never spurned from the door, and if not +harboured, is at least dismissed with fair words, and consigned to the +mercies of God and his mother. This is as it should be. I laugh at the +bigotry and prejudices of Spain; I abhor the cruelty and ferocity which +have cast a stain of eternal infamy on her history; but I will say for +the Spaniards, that in their social intercourse no people in the world +exhibit a juster feeling of what is due to the dignity of human nature, +or better understand the behaviour which it behoves a man to adopt +towards his fellow beings. I have said that it is one of the few +countries in Europe where poverty is not treated with contempt, and I may +add, where the wealthy are not blindly idolized. In Spain the very +beggar does not feel himself a degraded being, for he kisses no one’s +feet, and knows not what it is to be cuffed or spit upon; and in Spain +the duke or the marquis can scarcely entertain a very overweening opinion +of his own consequence, as he finds no one, with perhaps the exception of +his French valet, to fawn upon or flatter him. + +During my stay at Salamanca I took measures that the word of God might +become generally known in his celebrated city. The principal bookseller +of the town, Blanco, a man of great wealth and respectability, consented +to become my agent here, and I in consequence deposited in his shop a +certain number of New Testaments. He was the proprietor of a small +printing-press, where the official bulletin of the place was published. +For this bulletin I prepared an advertisement of the work, in which, +amongst other things, I said that the New Testament was the only guide to +salvation; I also spoke of the Bible Society, and the great pecuniary +sacrifices which it was making with the view of proclaiming Christ +crucified, and of making his doctrine known. This step will perhaps be +considered by some as too bold, but I was not aware that I could take any +more calculated to arouse the attention of the people—a considerable +point. I also ordered numbers of the same advertisement to be struck off +in the shape of bills, which I caused to be stuck up in various parts of +the town. I had great hope that by means of these a considerable number +of New Testaments would be sold. I intended to repeat this experiment in +Valladolid, Leon, St. Jago, {279} and all the principal towns which I +visited, and to distribute them likewise as I rode along. The children +of Spain would thus be brought to know that such a work as the New +Testament is in existence, a fact of which not five in one hundred were +then aware, notwithstanding their so frequently repeated boasts of their +Catholicity and Christianity. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Departure from Salamanca—Reception at Pitiegua—The Dilemma—Sudden +Inspiration—The Good Presbyter—Combat of Quadrupeds—Irish +Christians—Plains of Spain—The Catalans—The Fatal +Pool—Valladolid—Circulation of the Scriptures—Philippine Missions—English +College—A Conversation—The Gaoleress. + +On Saturday, June 10, I left Salamanca for Valladolid. As the village +where we intended to rest was only five leagues distant, we did not sally +forth till midday was past. There was a haze in the heavens which +overcast the sun, nearly hiding his countenance from our view. My +friend, Mr. Patrick Cantwell, of the Irish College, {280a} was kind +enough to ride with me part of the way. He was mounted on a most +sorry-looking hired mule, which I expected would be unable to keep pace +with the spirited horses of myself and man; for he seemed to be +twin-brother of the mule of Gil Perez, on which his nephew made his +celebrated journey from Oviedo to Peñaflor. {280b} I was, however, very +much mistaken. The creature, on being mounted, instantly set off at that +rapid walk which I have so often admired in Spanish mules, and which no +horse can emulate. Our more stately animals were speedily left in the +rear, and we were continually obliged to break into a trot to follow the +singular quadruped, who, ever and anon, would lift his head high in the +air, curl up his lip, and show his yellow teeth, as if he were laughing +at us, as perhaps he was. It chanced that none of us were well +acquainted with the road; indeed, I could see nothing which was fairly +entitled to that appellation. The way from Salamanca to Valladolid is +amongst a medley of bridle-paths and drift-ways, where discrimination is +very difficult. It was not long before we were bewildered, and travelled +over more ground than was strictly necessary. However, as men and women +frequently passed on donkeys and little ponies, we were not too proud to +be set right by them, and by dint of diligent inquiry we at length +arrived at Pitiegua, four leagues from Salamanca, a small village, +containing about fifty families, consisting of mud huts, and situated in +the midst of dusty plains, where corn was growing in abundance. We asked +for the house of the _cura_, an old man whom I had seen the day before at +the Irish College, and who, on being informed that I was about to depart +for Valladolid, had exacted from me a promise that I would not pass +through his village without paying him a visit and partaking of his +hospitality. + +A woman directed us to a cottage somewhat superior in appearance to those +contiguous. It had a small portico, which, if I remember well, was +overgrown with a vine. We knocked loud and long at the door, but +received no answer; the voice of man was silent, and not even a dog +barked. The truth was, that the old curate {282} was taking his +_siesta_, and so were his whole family, which consisted of one ancient +female and a cat. The good man was at last disturbed by our noise and +vociferation, for we were hungry, and consequently impatient. Leaping +from his couch, he came running to the door in great hurry and confusion, +and, perceiving us, he made many apologies for being asleep at a period +when, he said, he ought to have been on the look-out for his invited +guest. He embraced me very affectionately, and conducted me into his +parlour, an apartment of tolerable size, hung round with shelves, which +were crowded with books. At one end there was a kind of table or desk +covered with black leather, with a large easy-chair, into which he pushed +me, as I, with the true eagerness of a bibliomaniac, was about to inspect +his shelves; saying, with considerable vehemence, that there was nothing +there worthy of the attention of an Englishman, for that his whole stock +consisted of breviaries and dry Catholic treatises on divinity. + +His care now was to furnish us with refreshments. In a twinkling, with +the assistance of his old attendant, he placed on the table several +plates of cakes and confectionery, and a number of large uncouth glass +bottles, which I thought bore a strong resemblance to those of Schiedam, +and indeed they were the very same. “There,” said he, rubbing his hands; +“I thank God that it is in my power to treat you in a way which will be +agreeable to you. In those bottles there is Hollands, thirty years old;” +and producing two large tumblers, he continued, “fill, my friends, and +drink—drink it every drop if you please, for it is of little use to +myself, who seldom drink aught but water. I know that you islanders love +it, and cannot live without it; therefore, since it does you good, I am +only sorry that there is no more.” + +Observing that we contented ourselves with merely tasting it, he looked +at us with astonishment, and inquired the reason of our not drinking. We +told him that we seldom drank ardent spirits; and I added, that as for +myself, I seldom tasted even wine, but, like himself, was content with +the use of water. He appeared somewhat incredulous; but told us to do +exactly what we pleased, and to ask for what was agreeable to us. We +told him that we had not dined, and should be glad of some substantial +refreshment. “I am afraid,” said he, “that I have nothing in the house +which will suit you; however, we will go and see.” + +Thereupon he led us through a small yard at the back part of his house, +which might have been called a garden or orchard if it had displayed +either trees or flowers; but it produced nothing but grass, which was +growing in luxuriance. At one end was a large pigeon-house, which we all +entered; “for,” said the curate, “if we could find some nice delicate +pigeons they would afford you an excellent dinner.” We were, however, +disappointed; for, after rummaging the nests, we only found very young +ones, unfitted for our purpose. The good man became very melancholy, and +said he had some misgivings that we should have to depart dinnerless. +Leaving the pigeon-house, he conducted us to a place where there were +several skeps of bees, round which multitudes of the busy insects were +hovering, filling the air with their music. “Next to my +fellow-creatures,” said he, “there is nothing which I love so dearly as +these bees; it is one of my delights to sit watching them, and listening +to their murmur.” We next went to several unfurnished rooms, fronting +the yard, in one of which were hanging several flitches of bacon, beneath +which he stopped, and, looking up, gazed intently upon them. We told him +that, if he had nothing better to offer, we should be very glad to eat +some slices of his bacon, especially if some eggs were added. “To tell +the truth,” said he, “I have nothing better, and if you can content +yourselves with such fare I shall be very happy; as for eggs, you can +have as many as you wish, and perfectly fresh, for my hens lay every +day.” + +So, after everything was prepared and arranged to our satisfaction, we +sat down to dine on the bacon and eggs, in a small room, not the one to +which he had ushered us at first, but on the other side of the doorway. +The good curate, though he ate nothing, having taken his meal long +before, sat at the head of the table, and the repast was enlivened by his +chat. “There, my friends,” said he, “where you are now seated once sat +Wellington and Crawford, after they had beat the French at Arapiles, +{284} and rescued us from the thraldom of those wicked people. I never +respected my house so much as I have done since they honoured it with +their presence. They were heroes, and one was a demi-god.” He then +burst into a most eloquent panegyric of _El Gran Lord_, as he termed him, +which I should be very happy to translate, were my pen capable of +rendering into English the robust thundering sentences of his powerful +Castilian. I had till then considered him a plain, uninformed old man, +almost simple, and as incapable of much emotion as a tortoise within its +shell; but he had become at once inspired: his eyes were replete with a +bright fire, and every muscle of his face was quivering. The little silk +skull-cap which he wore, according to the custom of the Catholic clergy, +moved up and down with his agitation; and I soon saw that I was in the +presence of one of those remarkable men who so frequently spring up in +the bosom of the Romish church, and who to a child-like simplicity unite +immense energy and power of mind—equally adapted to guide a scanty flock +of ignorant rustics in some obscure village in Italy or Spain, as to +convert millions of heathens on the shores of Japan, China, and Paraguay. + +He was a thin spare man, of about sixty-five, and was dressed in a black +cloak of very coarse materials; nor were his other garments of superior +quality. This plainness, however, in the appearance of his outward man +was by no means the result of poverty; quite the contrary. The benefice +was a very plentiful one, and placed at his disposal annually a sum of at +least eight hundred dollars, of which the eighth part was more than +sufficient to defray the expenses of his house and himself; the rest was +devoted entirely to the purest acts of charity. He fed the hungry +wanderer, and despatched him singing on his way, with meat in his wallet +and a _peseta_ in his purse; and his parishioners, when in need of money, +had only to repair to his study, and were sure of an immediate supply. +He was, indeed, the banker of the village, and what he lent he neither +expected nor wished to be returned. Though under the necessity of making +frequent journeys to Salamanca, he kept no mule, but contented himself +with an ass, borrowed from the neighbouring miller. “I once kept a +mule,” said he; “but some years since it was removed without my +permission by a traveller whom I had housed for the night: for in that +alcove I keep two clean beds for the use of the wayfaring, and I shall be +very much pleased if yourself and friend will occupy them, and tarry with +me till the morning.” + +But I was eager to continue my journey, and my friend was no less anxious +to return to Salamanca. Upon taking leave of the hospitable curate, I +presented him with a copy of the New Testament. He received it without +uttering a single word, and placed it on one of the shelves of his study; +but I observed him nodding significantly to the Irish student, perhaps as +much as to say, “Your friend loses no opportunity of propagating his +book;” for he was well aware who I was. I shall not speedily forget the +truly good presbyter, Antonio Garcia de Aguilar, _cura_ of Pitiegua. + +We reached Pedroso shortly before nightfall. It was a small village, +containing about thirty houses, and intersected by a rivulet, or, as it +is called, a _regata_. On its banks women and maidens were washing their +linen, and singing couplets; the church stood alone and solitary on the +farther side. We inquired for the _posada_, and were shown a cottage, +differing nothing from the rest in general appearance. We called at the +door in vain, as it is not the custom of Castile for the people of these +halting-places to go out to welcome their visitors: at last we dismounted +and entered the house, demanding of a sullen-looking woman where we were +to place the horses. She said there was a stable within the house, but +we could not put the animals there, as it contained _malos machos_ {287} +belonging to two travellers, who would certainly fight with our horses, +and then there would be a _funcion_, which would tear the house down. +She then pointed to an out-house across the way, saying that we could +stable them there. We entered this place, which we found full of filth +and swine, with a door without a lock. I thought of the fate of the +_cura’s_ mule, and was unwilling to trust the horses in such a place, +abandoning them to the mercy of any robber in the neighbourhood. I +therefore entered the house, and said resolutely that I was determined to +place them in the stable. Two men were squatted on the ground, with an +immense bowl of stewed hare before them, on which they were supping; +these were the travelling merchants, the masters of the mules. I passed +on to the stable, one of the men saying softly, “Yes, yes, go in and see +what will befall.” I had no sooner entered the stable than I heard a +horrid discordant cry, something between a bray and a yell, and the +largest of the _machos_, tearing his head from the manger to which he was +fastened, his eyes shooting flames, and breathing a Whirlwind from his +nostrils, flung himself on my stallion. The horse, as savage as himself, +reared on his hind legs, and, after the fashion of an English pugilist, +repaid the other with a pat on the forehead, which nearly felled him. A +combat instantly ensued, and I thought that the words of the sullen woman +would be verified by the house being torn to pieces. It ended by my +seizing the mule by the halter, at the risk of my limbs, and hanging upon +him with all my weight, whilst Antonio, with much difficulty, removed the +horse. The man who had been standing at the entrance now came forward, +saying, “This would not have happened if you had taken good advice.” +Upon my stating to him the unreasonableness of expecting that I would +risk horses in a place where they would probably be stolen before the +morning, he replied, “True, true, you have perhaps done right.” He then +re-fastened his _macho_, adding for additional security a piece of +whipcord, which he said rendered escape impossible. + +After supper, I roamed about the village. I addressed two or three +labourers whom I found standing at their doors; they appeared, however, +exceedingly reserved, and with a gruff “_buenas noches_” turned into +their houses without inviting me to enter. I at last found my way to the +church porch, where I continued some time in meditation. At last I +bethought myself of retiring to rest; before departing, however, I took +out and affixed to the porch of the church an advertisement to the effect +that the New Testament was to be purchased at Salamanca. On returning to +the house, I found the two travelling merchants enjoying profound slumber +on various _mantas_, or mule-cloths, stretched on the floor. “You are a +French merchant, I suppose, _Caballero_,” said a man, who it seemed was +the master of the house, and whom I had not before seen. “You are a +French merchant, I suppose, and are on the way to the fair of Medina.” +“I am neither Frenchman nor merchant,” I replied, “and, though I purpose +passing through Medina, it is not with the view of attending the fair.” +“Then you are one of the Irish Christians from Salamanca, _Caballero_,” +said the man; “I hear you come from that town.” “Why do you call them +_Irish Christians_?” I replied. “Are there pagans in their country?” +“We call them Christians,” said the man, “to distinguish them from the +Irish English, who are worse than pagans, who are Jews and heretics.” I +made no answer, but passed on to the room which had been prepared for me, +and from which, the door being ajar, I heard the following short +conversation passing between the innkeeper and his wife:— + +_Innkeeper_.—_Muger_, it appears to me that we have evil guests in the +house. + +_Wife_.—You mean the last comers, the _Caballero_ and his servant. Yes, +I never saw worse countenances in my life. + +_Innkeeper_.—I do not like the servant, and still less the master. He +has neither formality nor politeness: he tells me that he is not French, +and when I spoke to him of the Irish Christians, he did not seem to +belong to them. I more than suspect that he is a heretic, or a Jew at +least. + +_Wife_.—Perhaps they are both. _Maria Santísima_! what shall we do to +purify the house when they are gone? + +_Innkeeper_.—Oh, as for that matter, we must of course charge it in the +_cuenta_. + +I slept soundly, and rather late in the morning arose and breakfasted, +and paid the bill, in which, by its extravagance, I found the +purification had not been forgotten. The travelling merchants had +departed at daybreak. We now led forth the horses, and mounted; there +were several people at the door staring at us. “What is the meaning of +this?” said I to Antonio. + +“It is whispered that we are no Christians,” said Antonio; “they have +come to cross themselves at our departure.” + +In effect, the moment that we rode forward a dozen hands at least were +busied in this evil-averting ceremony. Antonio instantly turned and +crossed himself in the Greek fashion—much more complex and difficult than +the Catholic. + +“_Mirad que Santiguo_! _que Santiguo de los demonios_!” {290} exclaimed +many voices, whilst for fear of consequences we hastened away. + +The day was exceedingly hot, and we wended our way slowly along the +plains of Old Castile. With all that pertains to Spain, vastness and +sublimity are associated: grand are its mountains, and no less grand are +its plains, which seem of boundless extent, but which are not tame +unbroken flats, like the steppes of Russia. Rough and uneven ground is +continually occurring: here a deep ravine and gully worn by the wintry +torrent; yonder an eminence not unfrequently craggy and savage, at whose +top appears the lone solitary village. There is little that is +blithesome and cheerful, but much that is melancholy. A few solitary +rustics are occasionally seen toiling in the fields—fields without limit +or boundary, where the green oak, the elm, or the ash are unknown; where +only the sad and desolate pine displays its pyramid-like form, and where +no grass is to be found. And who are the travellers of these districts? +For the most part _arrieros_, with their long trains of mules hung with +monotonous tinkling bells. Behold them with their brown faces, brown +dresses, and broad slouched hats;—the _arrieros_, the true lords of the +roads of Spain, and to whom more respect is paid in these dusty ways than +to dukes and _condes_;—the _arrieros_, sullen, proud, and rarely +courteous, whose deep voices may be sometimes heard at the distance of a +mile, either cheering the sluggish animals, or shortening the dreary way +with savage and dissonant songs. + +Late in the afternoon we reached Medina del Campo, {291} formerly one of +the principal cities of Spain, though at present an inconsiderable place. +Immense ruins surround it in every direction, attesting the former +grandeur of this “city of the plain.” The great square or market-place +is a remarkable spot, surrounded by a heavy massive _piazza_, over which +rise black buildings of great antiquity. We found the town crowded with +people awaiting the fair, which was to be held in a day or two. We +experienced some difficulty in obtaining admission into the _posada_, +which was chiefly occupied by Catalans from Valladolid. These people not +only brought with them their merchandise, but their wives and children. +Some of them appeared to be people of the worst description: there was +one in particular, a burly savage-looking fellow, of about forty, whose +conduct was atrocious; he sat with his wife, or perhaps concubine, at the +door of a room which opened upon the court: he was continually venting +horrible and obscene oaths, both in Spanish and Catalan. The woman was +remarkably handsome, but robust, and seemingly as savage as himself; her +conversation likewise was as frightful as his own. Both seemed to be +under the influence of an incomprehensible fury. At last, upon some +observation from the woman, he started up, and drawing a long knife from +his girdle, stabbed at her naked bosom; she, however, interposed the palm +of her hand, which was much cut. He stood for a moment viewing the blood +trickling upon the ground, whilst she held up her wounded hand; then, +with an astounding oath, he hurried up the court to the _Plaza_. I went +up to the woman and said, “What is the cause of this? I hope the ruffian +has not seriously injured you.” She turned her countenance upon me with +the glance of a demon, and at last with a sneer of contempt exclaimed, +“_Caráls_, _que es eso_? {292} Cannot a Catalan gentleman be conversing +with his lady upon their own private affairs without being interrupted by +you?” She then bound up her hand with a handkerchief, and going into the +room brought a small table to the door, on which she placed several +things, as if for the evening’s repast, and then sat down on a stool. +Presently returned the Catalan, and without a word took his seat on the +threshold; then, as if nothing had occurred, the extraordinary couple +commenced eating and drinking, interlarding their meal with oaths and +jests. + +We spent the night at Medina, and departing early next morning, passed +through much the same country as the day before, until about noon we +reached a small _venta_, distant half a league from the Duero; {293a} +here we reposed ourselves during the heat of the day, and then, +remounting, crossed the river by a handsome stone bridge, and directed +our course to Valladolid. The banks of the Duero in this place have much +beauty: they abound with trees and brushwood, amongst which, as we passed +along, various birds were singing melodiously. A delicious coolness +proceeded from the water, which in some parts brawled over stones or +rippled fleetly over white sand, and in others glided softly over blue +pools of considerable depth. By the side of one of these last sat a +woman of about thirty, neatly dressed as a peasant; she was gazing upon +the water, into which she occasionally flung flowers and twigs of trees. +I stopped for a moment to ask a question; she, however, neither looked up +nor answered, but continued gazing at the water as if lost to +consciousness of all beside. “Who is that woman?” said I to a shepherd, +whom I met the moment after. “She is mad, _la pobrecita_,” said he; “she +lost her child about a month ago in that pool, and she has been mad ever +since. They are going to send her to Valladolid, to the _Casa de los +Locos_. {293b} There are many who perish every year in the eddies of the +Duero; it is a bad river; _vaya usted con la Virgen_, _Caballero_.” +{293c} So I rode on through the _pinares_, or thin scanty pine forests, +which skirt the way to Valladolid {293d} in this direction. + +Valladolid is seated in the midst of an immense valley, or rather hollow, +which seems to have been scooped by some mighty convulsion out of the +plain ground of Castile. The eminences which appear in the neighbourhood +are not properly high grounds, but are rather the sides of this hollow. +They are jagged and precipitous, and exhibit a strange and uncouth +appearance. Volcanic force seems at some distant period to have been +busy in these districts. Valladolid abounds with convents, at present +deserted, which afford some of the finest specimens of architecture in +Spain. The principal church, though rather ancient, is unfinished: it +was intended to be a building of vast size, but the means of the founders +were insufficient to carry out their plan. It is built of rough granite. +Valladolid is a manufacturing town, but the commerce is chiefly in the +hands of the Catalans, of whom there is a colony of nearly three hundred +established here. It possesses a beautiful _alameda_, or public walk, +through which flows the river Escueva. The population is said to amount +to sixty thousand souls. + +We put up at the Posada de las Diligencias, a very magnificent edifice. +This _posada_, however, we were glad to quit on the second day after our +arrival, the accommodation being of the most wretched description, and +the incivility of the people great; the master of the house, an immense +tall fellow, with huge moustaches and an assumed military air, being far +too high a cavalier to attend to the wants of his guests, with whom, it +is true, he did not appear to be overburdened, as I saw no one but +Antonio and myself. He was a leading man amongst the national guards of +Valladolid, and delighted in parading about the city on a clumsy steed, +which he kept in a subterranean stable. + +Our next quarters were at the Trojan Horse, an ancient _posada_, kept by +a native of the Basque provinces, who at least was not above his +business. We found everything in confusion at Valladolid, a visit from +the factious being speedily expected. All the gates were blockaded, and +various forts had been built to cover the approaches to the city. +Shortly after our departure the Carlists actually did arrive, under the +command of the Biscayan chief, Zariategui. {295} They experienced no +opposition, the staunchest nationals retiring to the principal fort, +which they, however, speedily surrendered, not a gun being fired +throughout the affair. As for my friend the hero of the inn, on the +first rumour of the approach of the enemy, he mounted his horse and rode +off, and was never subsequently heard of. On our return to Valladolid, +we found the inn in other and better hands, those of a Frenchman from +Bayonne, from whom we received as much civility as we had experienced +rudeness from his predecessor. + +In a few days I formed the acquaintance of the bookseller of the place, a +kind-hearted, simple man, who willingly undertook the charge of vending +the Testaments which I brought. + +I found literature of every description at the lowest ebb at Valladolid. +My newly acquired friend merely carried on bookselling in connection with +other business; it being, as he assured me, in itself quite insufficient +to afford him a livelihood. During the week, however, that I continued +in this city, a considerable number of copies were disposed of, and a +fair prospect opened that many more would be demanded. To call attention +to my books, I had recourse to the same plan which I had adopted at +Salamanca, the affixing of advertisements to the walls. Before leaving +the city I gave orders that these should be renewed every week; from +pursuing which course I expected that much and manifold good would +accrue, as the people would have continual opportunities of learning that +a book which contains the living word was in existence, and within their +reach, which might induce them to secure it, and consult it even unto +salvation. . . . + +In Valladolid I found both an English {296a} and Scotch {296b} College. +From my obliging friends, the Irish at Salamanca, I bore a letter of +introduction to the rector of the latter. I found this college an old +gloomy edifice, situated in a retired street. The rector was dressed in +the habiliments of a Spanish ecclesiastic, a character which he was +evidently ambitious of assuming. There was something dry and cold in his +manner, and nothing of that generous warmth and eager hospitality which +had so captivated me in the fine Irish rector of Salamanca; he was, +however, civil and polite, and offered to show me the curiosities of the +place. He evidently knew who I was, and on that account was, perhaps, +more reserved than he otherwise would have been: not a word passed +between us on religious matters, which we seemed to avoid by common +consent. Under the auspices of this gentleman, I visited the college of +the Philippine Missions, which stands beyond the gate of the city, where +I was introduced to the superior, a fine old man of seventy, very stout, +in the habiliments of a friar. There was an air of placid benignity on +his countenance which highly interested me; his words were few and +simple, and he seemed to have bid adieu to all worldly passions. One +little weakness was, however, still clinging to him. + +_Myself_.—This is a noble edifice in which you dwell, father; I should +think it would contain at least two hundred students. + +_Rector_.—More, my son: it is intended for more hundreds than it now +contains single individuals. + +_Myself_.—I observe that some rude attempts have been made to fortify it; +the walls are pierced with loopholes in every direction. + +_Rector_.—The nationals of Valladolid visited us a few days ago, and +committed much useless damage; they were rather rude, and threatened me +with their clubs. Poor men, poor men! + +_Myself_.—I suppose that even these missions, which are certainly +intended for a noble end, experience the sad effects of the present +convulsed state of Spain? + +_Rector_.—But too true: we at present receive no assistance from the +government, and are left to the Lord and ourselves. + +_Myself._—How many aspirants for the mission are you at present +instructing? + +_Rector_.—Not one, my son; not one. They are all fled. The flock is +scattered, and the shepherd left alone. + +_Myself_.—Your reverence has doubtless taken an active part in the +mission abroad? + +_Rector_.—I was forty years in the Philippines, my son, forty years +amongst the Indians. Ah me! how I love those Indians of the Philippines! + +_Myself_.—Can your reverence discourse in the language of the Indians? + +_Rector_.—No, my son. We teach the Indians Castilian. There is no +better language, I believe. We teach them Castilian, and the adoration +of the Virgin. What more need they know? + +_Myself_.—And what did your reverence think of the Philippines as a +country? + +_Rector_.—I was forty years in the Philippines, but I know little of the +country. I do not like the country. I love the Indians. The country is +not very bad; it is, however, not worth Castile. + +_Myself_.—Is your reverence a Castilian? + +_Rector_.—I am an _Old_ Castilian, my son. {298} + +From the house of the Philippine Missions my friend conducted me to the +English College: this establishment seemed in every respect to be on a +more magnificent scale than its Scottish sister. In the latter there +were few pupils, scarcely six or seven, I believe, whilst in the English +seminary I was informed that between thirty and forty were receiving +their education. It is a beautiful building, with a small but splendid +church, and a handsome library. The situation is light and airy: it +stands by itself in an unfrequented part of the city, and, with genuine +English exclusiveness, is surrounded by a high wall, which incloses a +delicious garden. This is by far the most remarkable establishment of +the kind in the Peninsula, and I believe the most prosperous. From the +cursory view which I enjoyed of its interior, I of course cannot be +expected to know much of its economy. I could not, however, fail to be +struck with the order, neatness, and system which pervaded it. There +was, however, an air of severe monastic discipline, though I am far from +asserting that such actually existed. We were attended throughout by the +sub-rector, the principal being absent. Of all the curiosities of this +college, the most remarkable is the picture-gallery, which contains +neither more nor less than the portraits of a variety of scholars of this +house who eventually suffered martyrdom in England, in the exercise of +their vocation in the angry times of the Sixth Edward and fierce +Elizabeth. Yes, in this very house were many of those pale, smiling, +half-foreign priests educated, who, like stealthy grimalkins, traversed +green England in all directions; crept into old halls beneath umbrageous +rookeries, fanning the dying embers of Popery, with no other hope nor +perhaps wish than to perish disembowelled by the bloody hands of the +executioner, amongst the yells of a rabble as bigoted as themselves; +priests like Bedingfield and Garnet, {299} and many others who have left +a name in English story. Doubtless many a history, only the more +wonderful for being true, could be wrought out of the archives of the +English Popish seminary at Valladolid. + +There was no lack of guests at the Trojan Horse, where we had taken up +our abode at Valladolid. Amongst others who arrived during my sojourn +was a robust buxom dame, exceedingly well dressed in black silk, with a +costly _mantilla_. She was accompanied by a very handsome, but sullen +and malicious-looking urchin of about fifteen, who appeared to be her +son. She came from Toro, a place about a day’s journey from Valladolid, +and celebrated for its wine. {300a} One night, as we were seated in the +court of the inn enjoying the _fresco_, the following conversation ensued +between us. + +_Lady_.—_Vaya_, _vaya_, what a tiresome place is Valladolid! How +different from Toro! + +_Myself_.—I should have thought that it is at least as agreeable as Toro, +which is not a third part so large. + +_Lady_.—As agreeable as Toro! _Vaya_, _vaya_! Were you ever in the +prison of Toro, Sir Cavalier? + +_Myself_.—I have never had that honour; the prison is generally the last +place which I think of visiting. + +_Lady_.—See the difference of tastes: I have been to see the prison of +Valladolid, and it seems as tiresome as the town. + +_Myself_.—Of course, if grief and tediousness exist anywhere, you will +find them in the prison. + +_Lady_.—Not in that of Toro. + +_Myself_.—What does that of Toro possess to distinguish it from all +others? + +_Lady_.—What does it possess? _Vaya_! Am I not the _carcelera_? Is not +my husband the _alcayde_? {300b} Is not that son of mine a child of the +prison? + +_Myself_.—I beg your pardon, I was not aware of that circumstance; it of +course makes much difference. + +_Lady_.—I believe you. I am a daughter of that prison: my father was +_alcayde_, and my son might hope to be so, were he not a fool. + +_Myself_.—His countenance, then, belies him strangely. I should be loth +to purchase that youngster for a fool. + +_Gaoleress_.—You would have a fine bargain if you did: he has more +_picardias_ than any _calabozero_ in Toro. What I mean is, that he does +not take to the prison as he ought to do, considering what his fathers +were before him. He has too much pride—too many fancies; and he has at +length persuaded me to bring him to Valladolid, where I have arranged +with a merchant who lives in the _Plaza_ to take him on trial. I wish he +may not find his way to the prison: if he do, he will find that being a +prisoner is a very different thing from being a son of the prison. + +_Myself_.—As there is so much merriment at Toro, you of course attend to +the comfort of your prisoners. + +_Gaoleress_.—Yes, we are very kind to them—I mean to those who are +_caballeros_; but as for those with vermin and _miseria_, what can we do? +It is a merry prison that of Toro; we allow as much wine to enter as the +prisoners can purchase and pay duty for. This of Valladolid is not half +so gay: there is no prison like Toro. I learned there to play on the +guitar. An Andalusian cavalier taught me to touch the guitar and to sing +_à la Gitana_. Poor fellow, he was my first _novio_. Juanito, bring me +the guitar, that I may play this gentleman a tune of Andalusia. + +The _carcelera_ had a fine voice, and touched the favourite instrument of +the Spaniards in a truly masterly manner. I remained listening to her +performance for nearly an hour, when I retired to my apartment and my +repose. I believe that she continued playing and singing during the +greater part of the night, for as I occasionally awoke I could still hear +her; and even in my slumbers the strings were ringing in my ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Dueñas—Children of Egypt—Jockeyism—The Baggage Pony—The +Fall—Palencia—Carlist Priests—The Look-out—Priestly +Sincerity—Leon—Antonio alarmed—Heat and Dust. + +After a sojourn of about ten days at Valladolid, we directed our course +towards Leon. We arrived about noon at Dueñas, {303} a town at the +distance of six short leagues from Valladolid. It is in every respect a +singular place: it stands on a rising ground, and directly above it +towers a steep conical mountain of calcareous earth, crowned by a ruined +castle. Around Dueñas are seen a multitude of caves scooped in the high +banks and secured with strong doors. These are cellars, in which is +deposited the wine, of which abundance is grown in the neighbourhood, and +which is chiefly sold to the Navarrese and the mountaineers of Santander, +who arrive in cars drawn by oxen, and convey it away in large quantities. +We put up at a mean posada in the suburb for the purpose of refreshing +our horses. Several cavalry soldiers were quartered there, who instantly +came forth, and began, with the eyes of connoisseurs, to inspect my +Andalusian _entero_. “A capital horse that would be for our troop,” said +the corporal; “what a chest he has! By what right do you travel with +that horse, _señor_, when so many are wanted for the queen’s service? He +belongs to the _requiso_.” {304a} “I travel with him by right of +purchase, and being an Englishman,” I replied. “Oh, your worship is an +Englishman,” answered the corporal; “that, indeed, alters the matter. +The English in Spain are allowed to do what they please with their own, +which is more than the Spaniards are. Cavalier, I have seen your +countrymen {304b} in the Basque provinces; _vaya_, what riders! what +horses! They do not fight badly either. But their chief skill is in +riding: I have seen them dash over _barrancos_ to get at the factious, +who thought themselves quite secure, and then they would fall upon them +on a sudden and kill them to a man. In truth, your worship, this is a +fine horse; I must look at his teeth.” + +I looked at the corporal—his nose and eyes were in the horse’s mouth: the +rest of the party, who might amount to six or seven, were not less busily +engaged. One was examining his fore feet, another his hind; one fellow +was pulling at his tail with all his might, while another pinched the +windpipe, for the purpose of discovering whether the animal was at all +touched there. At last, perceiving that the corporal was about to remove +the saddle, that he might examine the back of the animal, I exclaimed— + +“Stay, ye _chabés_ of Egypt, ye forget that ye are _hundunares_, {304c} +and are no longer _paruguing grastes_ in the _chardí_.” + +The corporal at these words turned his face full upon me, and so did all +the rest. Yes, sure enough, there were the countenances of Egypt, and +the fixed filmy stare of eye. We continued looking at each other for a +minute at least, when the corporal, a villanous-looking fellow, at last +said, in the richest gypsy whine imaginable, “The _erray_ knows us, the +poor _Caloré_! And he an Englishman! _Bullati_! I should not have +thought that there was e’er a _Busnó_ would know us in these parts, where +_Gitanos_ are never seen. Yes, your worship is right; we are all here of +the blood of the _Caloré_. We are from _Melegrana_, your worship; they +took us from thence and sent us to the wars. Your worship is right; the +sight of that horse made us believe we were at home again in the +_mercado_ of Granada; he is a countryman of ours, a real _Andalou_. _Por +dios_, your worship, sell us that horse; we are poor _Caloré_, but we can +buy him.” + +“You forget that you are soldiers,” said I. “How should you buy my +horse?” + +“We are soldiers, your worship,” said the corporal, “but we are still +_Caloré_. We buy and sell _bestis_; the captain of our troop is in +league with us. We have been to the wars, but not to fight; we left that +to the _Busné_. We have kept together, and, like true _Caloré_, have +stood back to back. We have made money in the wars, your worship. _No +tenga usted cuidao_. {305a} We can buy your horse.” + +Here he pulled out a purse, which contained at least ten _ounces_ {305b} +of gold. + +“If I were willing to sell,” I replied, “what would you give me for that +horse?” + +“Then your worship wishes to sell your horse—that alters the matter. We +will give ten dollars for your worship’s horse. He is good for nothing.” + +“How is this?” said I. “You this moment told me he was a fine horse—an +Andalusian, and a countryman of yours.” + +“No, _señor_! we did not say that he was an _Andalou_. We said he was an +_Estremou_, and the worst of his kind. He is eighteen years old, your +worship, short-winded and galled.” + +“I do not wish to sell my horse,” said I; “quite the contrary. I had +rather buy than sell.” + +“Your worship does not wish to sell your horse,” said the gypsy. “Stay, +your worship; we will give sixty dollars for your worship’s horse.” + +“I would not sell him for two hundred and sixty. _Meclis_! _Meclis_! say +no more. I know your gypsy tricks. I will have no dealings with you.” + +“Did I not hear your worship say that you wished to buy a horse?” said +the gypsy. + +“I do not want to buy a horse,” said I; “if I need anything it is a pony +to carry our baggage. But it is getting late. Antonio, pay the +reckoning.” + +“Stay, your worship, do not be in a hurry,” said the gypsy; “I have got +the very pony which will suit you.” + +Without waiting for my answer, he hurried into the stable, from whence he +presently returned, leading an animal by a halter. It was a pony of +about thirteen hands high, of a dark red colour; it was very much galled +all over, the marks of ropes and thongs being visible on its hide. The +figure, however, was good, and there was an extraordinary brightness in +its eye. + +“There, your worship,” said the gypsy; “there is the best pony in all +Spain.” + +“What do you mean by showing me this wretched creature?” said I. + +“This wretched creature,” said the gypsy, “is a better horse than your +_Andalou_!” + +“Perhaps you would not exchange,” said I, smiling. + +“_Señor_, what I say is, that he shall run with your _Andalou_, and beat +him.” + +“He looks feeble,” said I; “his work is well-nigh done.” + +“Feeble as he is, _señor_, you could not manage him; no, nor any +Englishman in Spain.” + +I looked at the creature again, and was still more struck with its +figure. I was in need of a pony to relieve occasionally the horse of +Antonio in carrying the baggage which we had brought from Madrid, and +though the condition of this was wretched, I thought that by kind +treatment I might possibly soon bring him round. + +“May I mount this animal?” I demanded. + +“He is a baggage pony, _señor_, and is ill to mount. He will suffer none +but myself to mount him, who am his master. When he once commences +running, nothing will stop him but the sea. He springs over hills and +mountains, and leaves them behind in a moment. If you will mount him, +_señor_, suffer me to fetch a bridle, for you can never hold him in with +the halter.” + +“This is nonsense,” said I. “You pretend that he is spirited in order to +enhance the price. I tell you his work is done.” + +I took the halter in my hand and mounted. I was no sooner on his back +than the creature, who had before stood stone still, without displaying +the slightest inclination to move, and who in fact gave no farther +indication of existence than occasionally rolling his eyes and pricking +up an ear, sprang forward like a racehorse, at a most desperate gallop. +I had expected that he might kick or fling himself down on the ground, in +order to get rid of his burden, but for this escapade I was quite +unprepared. I had no difficulty, however, in keeping on his back, having +been accustomed from my childhood to ride without a saddle. To stop him, +however, baffled all my endeavours, and I almost began to pay credit to +the words of the gypsy, who had said that he would run on until he +reached the sea. I had, however, a strong arm, and I tugged at the +halter until I compelled him to turn slightly his neck, which from its +stiffness might almost have been of wood; he, however, did not abate his +speed for a moment. On the left side of the road down which he was +dashing was a deep trench, just where the road took a turn towards the +right, and over this he sprang in a sideward direction. The halter broke +with the effort; the pony shot forward like an arrow, whilst I fell back +into the dust. + +“_Señor_,” said the gypsy, coming up with the most serious countenance in +the world, “I told you not to mount that animal unless well bridled and +bitted. He is a baggage pony, and will suffer none to mount his back, +with the exception of myself who feed him.” (Here he whistled, and the +animal, who was scurring over the field, and occasionally kicking up his +heels, instantly returned with a gentle neigh.) “Now, your worship, see +how gentle he is. He is a capital baggage pony, and will carry all you +have over the hills of Galicia.” + +“What do you ask for him?” said I. + +“_Señor_, as your worship is an Englishman, and a good _ginete_, and, +moreover, understands the ways of the _Caloré_, and their tricks and +their language also, I will sell him to you a bargain. I will take two +hundred and sixty dollars for him, and no less.” + +“That is a large sum,” said I. + +“No, _señor_, not at all, considering that he is a baggage pony, and +belongs to the troop, and is not mine to sell.” + +Two hours’ ride brought us to Palencia, {309a} a fine old town, +beautifully situated on the Carrion, and famous for its trade in wool. +We put up at the best _posada_ which the place afforded, and I forthwith +proceeded to visit one of the principal merchants of the town, to whom I +was recommended by my banker in Madrid. I was told, however, that he was +taking his _siesta_. “Then I had better take my own,” said I, and +returned to the _posada_. In the evening I went again, when I saw him. +He was a short bulky man, about thirty, and received me at first with +some degree of bluntness; his manner, however, presently became more +kind, and at last he scarcely appeared to know how to show me sufficient +civility. His brother had just arrived from Santander, and to him he +introduced me. This last was a highly intelligent person, and had passed +many years of his life in England. They both insisted upon showing me +the town, and, indeed, led me all over it, and about the neighbourhood. +I particularly admired the cathedral, a light, elegant, but ancient +Gothic edifice. {309b} Whilst we walked about the aisles, the evening +sun, pouring its mellow rays through the arched windows, illumined some +beautiful paintings of Murillo, {310a} with which the sacred edifice is +adorned. From the church my friends conducted me to a fulling mill in +the neighbourhood, by a picturesque walk. There was no lack either of +trees or water, and I remarked, that the environs of Palencia were +amongst the most pleasant places that I had ever seen. + +Tired at last with rambling, we repaired to a coffee-house, where they +regaled me with chocolate and sweetmeats. Such was their hospitality; +and of hospitality of this simple and agreeable kind there is much in +Spain. + +On the next day we pursued our journey, a dreary one, for the most part, +over bleak and barren plains, interspersed with silent and cheerless +towns and villages, which stood at the distance of two or three leagues +from each other. About midday we obtained a dim and distant view of an +immense range of mountains, {310b} which are in fact those which bound +Castile on the north. The day, however, became dim and obscure, and we +speedily lost sight of them. A hollow wind now arose and blew over these +desolate plains with violence, wafting clouds of dust into our faces; the +rays of the sun were few, and those red and angry. I was tired of my +journey, and when about four we reached ---, {311} a large village, +halfway between Palencia and Leon, I declared my intention of stopping +for the night. I scarcely ever saw a more desolate place than this same +town or village of ---. The houses were for the most part large, but the +walls were of mud, like those of barns. We saw no person in the long +winding street to direct us to the _venta_, or _posada_, till at last, at +the farther end of the place, we descried two black figures standing at a +door, of whom, on making inquiry, we learned that the door at which they +stood was that of the house we were in quest of. There was something +strange in the appearance of these two beings, who seemed the genii of +the place. One was a small slim man, about fifty, with sharp ill-natured +features. He was dressed in coarse black worsted stockings, black +breeches, and an ample black coat with long trailing skirts. I should at +once have taken him for an ecclesiastic, but for his hat, which had +nothing clerical about it, being a pinched diminutive beaver. His +companion was of low stature, and a much younger man. He was dressed in +similar fashion, save that he wore a dark blue cloak. Both carried +walking-sticks in their hands, and kept hovering about the door, now +within and now without, occasionally looking up the road, as if they +expected some one. + +“Trust me, _mon maître_,” said Antonio to me, in French, “those two +fellows are Carlist priests, and are awaiting the arrival of the +Pretender. _Les imbeciles_!” + +We conducted our horses to the stable, to which we were shown by the +woman of the house. “Who are those men?” said I to her. + +“The eldest is head curate to our _pueblo_,” said she; “the other is +brother to my husband. _Pobrecito_! he was a friar in our convent before +it was shut up and the brethren driven forth.” + +We returned to the door. “I suppose, gentlemen,” said the curate, “that +you are Catalans? Do you bring any news from that kingdom?” + +“Why do you suppose we are Catalans?” I demanded. + +“Because I heard you this moment conversing in that language.” + +“I bring no news from Catalonia,” {312} said I. “I believe, however, +that the greater part of that principality is in the hands of the +Carlists.” + +“Ahem, brother Pedro! This gentleman says that the greater part of +Catalonia is in the hands of the royalists. Pray, sir, where may Don +Carlos be at present with his army?” + +“He may be coming down the road this moment,” said I, “for what I know;” +and, stepping out, I looked up the way. + +The two figures were at my side in a moment. Antonio followed, and we +all four looked intently up the road. + +“Do you see anything?” said I at last to Antonia. + +“Non, _mon maître_.” + +“Do you see anything, sir?” said I to the curate. + +“I see nothing,” said the curate, stretching out his neck. + +“I see nothing,” said Pedro, the ex-friar; “I see nothing but the dust, +which is becoming every moment more blinding.” + +“I shall go in, then,” said I. “Indeed, it is scarcely prudent to be +standing here looking out for the Pretender; should the nationals of the +town hear of it, they might perhaps shoot us.” + +“Ahem!” said the curate, following me; “there are no nationals in this +place: I would fain see what inhabitant would dare become a national. +When the inhabitants of this place were ordered to take up arms as +nationals, they refused to a man, and on that account we had to pay a +mulct; therefore, friend, you may speak out if you have anything to +communicate; we are all of your opinion here.” + +“I am of no opinion at all,” said I, “save that I want my supper. I am +neither for _Rey_ nor _Roque_. {313} You say that I am a Catalan, and +you know that Catalans think only of their own affairs.” + +In the evening I strolled by myself about the village, which I found +still more forlorn and melancholy that it at first appeared; perhaps, +however, it had been a place of consequence in its time. In one corner +of it I found the ruins of a large clumsy castle, chiefly built of flint +stones: into these ruins I attempted to penetrate, but the entrance was +secured by a gate. From the castle I found my way to the convent, a sad +desolate place, formerly the residence of mendicant brothers of the order +of St. Francis. I was about to return to the inn, when I heard a loud +buzz of voices, and, following the sound, presently reached a kind of +meadow, where, upon a small knoll, sat a priest in full canonicals, +reading in a loud voice a newspaper, while around him, either erect or +seated on the grass, were assembled about fifty _vecinos_, for the most +part dressed in long cloaks, amongst whom I discovered my two friends the +curate and friar. A fine knot of Carlist quidnuncs, said I to myself, +and turned away to another part of the meadow, where the cattle of the +village were grazing. The curate, on observing me, detached himself +instantly from the group, and followed. “I am told you want a pony,” +said he; “there now is mine feeding amongst those horses, the best in the +kingdom of Leon.” He then began with all the volubility of a _chalan_ to +descant on the points of the animal. Presently the friar joined us, who, +observing his opportunity, pulled me by the sleeve and whispered, “Have +nothing to do with the curate, master; he is the greatest thief in the +neighbourhood. If you want a pony, my brother has a much better, which +he will dispose of cheaper.” “I shall wait till I arrive at Leon,” I +exclaimed, and walked away, musing on priestly friendship and sincerity. + +From --- to Leon, a distance of eight leagues, the country rapidly +improved: we passed over several small streams, and occasionally found +ourselves amongst meadows in which grass was growing in the richest +luxuriance. The sun shone out brightly, and I hailed his reappearance +with joy, though the heat of his beams was oppressive. On arriving +within two leagues of Leon, we passed numerous cars and waggons, and +bands of people with horses and mules, all hastening to the celebrated +fair which is held in the city on St. John’s or Midsummer day, and which +took place within three days after our arrival. This fair, though +principally intended for the sale of horses, is frequented by merchants +from many parts of Spain, who attend with goods of various kinds, and +amongst them I remarked many of the Catalans whom I had previously seen +at Medina and Valladolid. + +There is nothing remarkable in Leon, {315} which is an old gloomy town, +with the exception of its cathedral, in many respects a counterpart of +the church of Palencia, exhibiting the same light and elegant +architecture, but, unlike its beautiful sister, unadorned with splendid +paintings. The situation of Leon is highly pleasant, in the midst of a +blooming country, abounding with trees, and watered by many streams, +which have their source in the mighty mountains in the neighbourhood. It +is, however, by no means a healthy place, especially in summer, when the +heats raise noxious exhalations from the waters, generating many kinds of +disorders, especially fevers. + +I had scarcely been at Leon three days when I was seized with a fever, +against which I thought the strength even of my constitution would have +yielded, for it wore me almost to a skeleton, and when it departed, at +the end of about a week, left me in such a deplorable state of weakness +that I was scarcely able to make the slightest exertion. I had, however, +previously persuaded a bookseller to undertake the charge of vending the +Testaments, and had published my advertisements as usual, though without +very sanguine hope of success, as Leon is a place where the inhabitants, +with very few exceptions, are furious Carlists, and ignorant and blinded +followers of the old papal church. It is, moreover, a bishop’s see, +which was once enjoyed by the prime counsellor of Don Carlos, whose +fierce and bigoted spirit still seems to pervade the place. Scarcely had +the advertisements appeared, when the clergy were in motion. They went +from house to house, banning and cursing, and denouncing misery to +whomsoever should either purchase or read “the accursed books,” which had +been sent into the country by heretics for the purpose of perverting the +innocent minds of the population. They did more; they commenced a +process against the bookseller in the ecclesiastical court. Fortunately +this court is not at present in the possession of much authority; and the +bookseller, a bold and determined man, set them at defiance, and went so +far as to affix an advertisement to the gate of the very cathedral. +Notwithstanding the cry raised against the book, several copies were sold +at Leon: two were purchased by ex-friars, and the same number by +parochial priests from neighbouring villages. I believe the whole number +disposed of during my stay amounted to fifteen; so that my visit to this +dark corner was not altogether in vain, as the seed of the Gospel has +been sown, though sparingly. But the palpable darkness which envelops +Leon is truly lamentable, and the ignorance of the people is so great, +that printed charms and incantations against Satan and his host, and +against every kind of misfortune, are publicly sold in the shops, and are +in great demand. Such are the results of Popery, a delusion which, more +than any other, has tended to debase and brutalize the human mind. + +I had scarcely risen from my bed where the fever had cast me, when I +found that Antonio had become alarmed. He informed me that he had seen +several soldiers in the uniform of Don Carlos lurking at the door of the +_posada_, and that they had been making inquiries concerning me. + +It was indeed a singular fact connected with Leon, that upwards of fifty +of these fellows, who had on various accounts left the ranks of the +Pretender, were walking about the streets dressed in his livery, and with +all the confidence which the certainty of protection from the local +authorities could afford them should any one be disposed to interrupt +them. + +I learned moreover from Antonio, that the person in whose house we were +living was a notorious _alcahuete_, or spy to the robbers in the +neighbourhood, and that unless we took our departure speedily and +unexpectedly, we should to a certainty be plundered on the road. I did +not pay much attention to these hints, but my desire to quit Leon was +great, as I was convinced that as long as I continued there I should be +unable to regain my health and vigour. + +Accordingly, at three in the morning, we departed for Galicia. We had +scarcely proceeded half a league when we were overtaken by a thunderstorm +of tremendous violence. We were at that time in the midst of a wood +which extends to some distance in the direction in which we were going. +The trees were bowed almost to the ground by the wind or torn up by the +roots, whilst the earth was ploughed up by the lightning, which burst all +around and nearly blinded us. The spirited Andalusian on which I rode +became furious, and bounded into the air as if possessed. Owing to my +state of weakness, I had the greatest difficulty in maintaining my seat, +and avoiding a fall which might have been fatal. A tremendous discharge +of rain followed the storm, which swelled the brooks and streams and +flooded the surrounding country, causing much damage amongst the corn. +After riding about five leagues, we began to enter the mountainous +district which surrounds Astorga. The heat now became almost +suffocating; swarms of flies began to make their appearance, and settling +down upon the horses, stung them almost to madness, whilst the road was +very flinty and trying. It was with great difficulty that we reached +Astorga, {318} covered with mud and dust, our tongues cleaving to our +palates with thirst. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +Astorga—The Inn—The Maragatos—Habits of the Maragatos—The Statue. + +We went to a _posada_ in the suburbs, the only one, indeed, which the +place afforded. The courtyard was full of _arrieros_ and carriers, +brawling loudly; the master of the house was fighting with two of his +customers, and universal confusion reigned around. As I dismounted I +received the contents of a wine-glass in my face, of which greeting, as +it was probably intended for another, I took no notice. Antonio, +however, was not so patient, for on being struck with a cudgel, he +instantly returned the salute with his whip, scarifying the countenance +of a carman. In my endeavours to separate these two antagonists, my +horse broke loose, and rushing amongst the promiscuous crowd, overturned +several individuals, and committed no little damage. It was a long time +before peace was restored: at last we were shown to a tolerably decent +chamber. We had, however, no sooner taken possession of it, than the +waggon from Madrid arrived on its way to Corunna, {319} filled with dusty +travellers, consisting of women, children, invalid officers, and the +like. We were now forthwith dislodged, and our baggage flung into the +yard. On our complaining of this treatment, we were told that we were +two vagabonds whom nobody knew; who had come without an _arriero_, and +had already set the whole house in confusion. As a great favour, +however, we were at length permitted to take up our abode in a ruinous +building down the yard, adjoining the stable, and filled with rats and +vermin. Here there was an old bed with a tester, and with this wretched +accommodation we were glad to content ourselves, for I could proceed no +farther, and was burnt with fever. The heat of the place was +intolerable, and I sat on the staircase with my head between my hands, +gasping for breath: soon appeared Antonio with vinegar and water, which I +drank, and felt relieved. + +We continued in this suburb three days, during the greatest part of which +time I was stretched on the tester-bed. I once or twice contrived to +make my way into the town, but found no bookseller, nor any person +willing to undertake the charge of disposing of my Testaments. The +people were brutal, stupid, and uncivil, and I returned to my tester-bed +fatigued and dispirited. Here I lay listening from time to time to the +sweet chimes which rang from the clock of the old cathedral. The master +of the house never came near me, nor, indeed, once inquired about me. +Beneath the care of Antonio, however, I speedily waxed stronger. “_Mon +maître_,” said he to me one evening, “I see you are better; let us quit +this bad town and worse _posada_ to-morrow morning. _Allons_, _mon +maître_! _Il est temps de nous mettre en chemin pour Lugo et Galice_.” + +Before proceeding, however, to narrate what befell us in this journey to +Lugo and Galicia, it will, perhaps, not be amiss to say a few words +concerning Astorga and its vicinity. It is a walled town, containing +about five or six thousand inhabitants, with a cathedral and college, +which last is, however, at present deserted. It is situated on the +confines, and may be called the capital, of a tract of land called the +country of the Maragatos, which occupies about three square leagues, and +has for its north-western boundary a mountain called Telleno, the +loftiest of a chain of hills which have their origin near the mouth of +the river Minho, and are connected with the immense range which +constitutes the frontier of the Asturias and Guipuzcoa. + +The land is ungrateful and barren, and niggardly repays the toil of the +cultivator, being for the most part rocky, with a slight sprinkling of +red brick earth. + +The Maragatos {321} are perhaps the most singular caste to be found +amongst the chequered population of Spain. They have their own peculiar +customs and dress, and never intermarry with the Spaniards. Their name +is a clue to their origin, as it signifies “Moorish Goths,” and at the +present day their garb differs but little from that of the Moors of +Barbary, as it consists of a long tight jacket, secured at the waist by a +broad girdle, loose short trousers which terminate at the knee, and boots +and gaiters. Their heads are shaven, a slight fringe of hair being only +left at the lower part. If they wore the turban, or _barret_, {322} they +could scarcely be distinguished from the Moors in dress; but in lieu +thereof they wear the _sombrero_, or broad slouching hat of Spain. There +can be little doubt that they are a remnant of those Goths who sided with +the Moors on their invasion of Spain, and who adopted their religion, +customs, and manner of dress, which, with the exception of the first, are +still to a considerable degree retained by them. It is, however, evident +that their blood has at no time mingled with that of the wild children of +the desert, for scarcely amongst the hills of Norway would you find +figures and faces more essentially Gothic than those of the Maragatos. +They are strong athletic men, but loutish and heavy, and their features, +though for the most part well formed, are vacant and devoid of +expression. They are slow and plain of speech, and those eloquent and +imaginative sallies so common in the conversation of other Spaniards +seldom or never escape them; they have, moreover, a coarse, thick +pronunciation, and when you hear them speak, you almost imagine that it +is some German or English peasant attempting to express himself in the +language of the Peninsula. They are constitutionally phlegmatic, and it +is very difficult to arouse their anger; but they are dangerous and +desperate when once incensed; and a person who knew them well told me +that he would rather face ten Valencians, people infamous for their +ferocity and blood-thirstiness, than confront one angry Maragato, +sluggish and stupid though he be on other occasions. + +The men scarcely ever occupy themselves in husbandry, which they abandon +to the women, who plough the flinty fields and gather in the scanty +harvests. Their husbands and sons are far differently employed: for they +are a nation of _arrieros_, or carriers, and almost esteem it a disgrace +to follow any other profession. On every road of Spain, particularly +those north of the mountains which divide the two Castiles, may be seen +gangs of fives and sixes of these people lolling or sleeping beneath the +broiling sun, on gigantic and heavily laden mutes and mules. {323} In a +word, almost the entire commerce of nearly one-half of Spain passes +through the hands of the Maragatos, whose fidelity to their trust is +such, that no one accustomed to employ them would hesitate to confide to +them the transport of a ton of treasure from the sea of Biscay to Madrid; +knowing well that it would not be their fault were it not delivered safe +and undiminished, even of a grain, and that bold must be the thieves who +would seek to wrest it from the far-feared Maragatos, who would cling to +it whilst they could stand, and would cover it with their bodies when +they fell in the act of loading or discharging their long carbines. + +But they are far from being disinterested, and if they are the most +trustworthy of all the _arrieros_ of Spain, they in general demand for +the transport of articles a sum at least double to what others of the +trade would esteem a reasonable recompense. By this means they +accumulate large sums of money, notwithstanding that they indulge +themselves in far superior fare to that which contents in general the +parsimonious Spaniard—another argument in favour of their pure Gothic +descent; for the Maragatos, like true men of the north, delight in +swilling liquors and battening upon gross and luscious meats, which help +to swell out their tall and goodly figures. Many of them have died +possessed of considerable riches, part of which they have not +unfrequently bequeathed to the erection or embellishment of religious +houses. + +On the east end of the cathedral of Astorga, {324a} which towers over the +lofty and precipitous wall, a colossal figure of lead may be seen on the +roof. It is the statue of a Maragato carrier, who endowed the cathedral +with a large sum. {324b} He is in his national dress, but his head is +averted from the land of his fathers, and whilst he waves in his hand a +species of flag, he seems to be summoning his race from their unfruitful +region to other climes, where a richer field is open to their industry +and enterprise. + +I spoke to several of these men respecting the all-important subject of +religion; but I found “their hearts gross, and their ears dull of +hearing, and their eyes closed.” There was one in particular to whom I +showed the New Testament, and whom I addressed for a considerable time. +He listened, or seemed to listen, patiently, taking occasionally copious +draughts from an immense jug of whitish wine which stood between his +knees. After I had concluded, he said, “To-morrow I set out for Lugo, +whither, I am told, yourself are going. If you wish to send your chest, +I have no objection to take it at so much” (naming an extravagant price). +“As for what you have told me, I understand little of it, and believe not +a word of it; but in respect to the books which you have shown me, I will +take three or four. I shall not read them, it is true, but I have no +doubt that I can sell them at a higher price than you demand.” + +So much for the Maragatos. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +Departure from Astorga—The Venta—The By-path—Narrow Escape—The Cup of +Water—Sun and Shade—Bembibre—Convent of the +Rocks—Sunset—Cacabelos—Midnight Adventure—Villafranca. + +It was four o’clock of a beautiful morning when we sallied from Astorga, +or rather from its suburbs, in which we had been lodged: we directed our +course to the north, in the direction of Galicia. Leaving the mountain +Telleno on our left, we passed along the eastern skirts of the land of +the Maragatos, over broken uneven ground, enlivened here and there by +small green valleys and runnels of water. Several of the Maragatan +women, mounted on donkeys, passed us on their way to Astorga, whither +they were carrying vegetables. We saw others in the fields handling +their rude ploughs, drawn by lean oxen. We likewise passed through a +small village, in which we, however, saw no living soul. Near this +village we entered the high-road which leads direct from Madrid to +Corunna, and at last, having travelled near four leagues, we came to a +species of pass, formed on our left by a huge lumpish hill (one of those +which descend from the great mountain Telleno), and on our right by one +of much less altitude. In the middle of this pass, which was of +considerable breadth, a noble view opened itself to us. Before us, at +the distance of about a league and a half, rose the mighty frontier +chain, of which I have spoken before; its blue sides and broken and +picturesque peaks still wearing a thin veil of the morning mist, which +the fierce rays of the sun were fast dispelling. It seemed an enormous +barrier, threatening to oppose our further progress, and it reminded me +of the fables respecting the children of Magog, {327a} who are said to +reside in remotest Tartary, behind a gigantic wall of rocks, which can +only be passed by a gate of steel a thousand cubits in height. + +We shortly after arrived at Manzanal, {327b} a village consisting of +wretched huts, and exhibiting every sign of poverty and misery. It was +now time to refresh ourselves and horses, and we accordingly put up at a +_venta_, the last habitation in the village, where, though we found +barley for the animals, we had much difficulty in procuring anything for +ourselves. I was at length fortunate enough to obtain a large jug of +milk, for there were plenty of cows in the neighbourhood, feeding in a +picturesque valley which we had passed by, where was abundance of grass, +and trees, and a rivulet broken by tiny cascades. The jug might contain +about half a gallon, but I emptied it in a few minutes, for the thirst of +fever was still burning within me, though I was destitute of appetite. +The _venta_ had something the appearance of a German baiting-house. It +consisted of an immense stable, from which was partitioned a kind of +kitchen and a place where the family slept. The master, a robust young +man, lolled on a large solid stone bench, which stood within the door. +He was very inquisitive respecting news, but I could afford him none, +whereupon he became communicative, and gave me the history of his life, +the sum of which was, that he had been a courier in the Basque provinces, +but about a year since had been dispatched to this village, where he kept +the post-house. He was an enthusiastic liberal, and spoke in bitter +terms of the surrounding population, who, he said, were all Carlists and +friends of the friars. I paid little attention to his discourse, for I +was looking at a Maragato lad of about fourteen, who served in the house +as a kind of ostler. I asked the master if we were still in the land of +the Maragatos; but he told me that we had left it behind nearly a league, +and that the lad was an orphan, and was serving until he could rake up +sufficient capital to become an _arriero_. I addressed several questions +to the boy, but the urchin looked sullenly in my face, and either +answered by monosyllables or was doggedly silent. I asked him if he +could read. “Yes,” said he, “as much as that brute of yours which is +tearing down the manger.” + +Quitting Manzanal, we continued our course. We soon arrived at the verge +of a deep valley amongst mountains—not those of the chain which we had +seen before us, and which we now left to the right, but those of the +Telleno range, just before they unite with that chain. Round the sides +of this valley, which exhibited something of the appearance of a +horse-shoe, wound the road in a circuitous manner; just before us, +however, and diverging from the road, lay a footpath, which seemed, by a +gradual descent, to lead across the valley, and to rejoin the road on the +other side, at the distance of about a furlong, and into this we struck, +in order to avoid the circuit. + +We had not gone far before we met two Galicians on their way to cut the +harvests of Castile. One of them shouted, “Cavalier, {329} turn back: in +a moment you will be amongst precipices, where your horses will break +their necks, for we ourselves could scarcely climb them on foot.” The +other cried, “Cavalier, proceed, but be careful, and your horses, if +surefooted, will run no great danger: my comrade is a fool.” A violent +dispute instantly ensued between the two mountaineers, each supporting +his opinion with loud oaths and curses; but without stopping to see the +result, I passed on. But the path was now filled with stones and huge +slaty rocks, on which my horse was continually slipping. I likewise +heard the sound of water in a deep gorge, which I had hitherto not +perceived, and I soon saw that it would be worse than madness to proceed. +I turned my horse, and was hastening to regain the path which I had left, +when Antonio, my faithful Greek, pointed out to me a meadow by which, he +said, we might regain the highroad much lower down than if we returned on +our steps. The meadow was brilliant with short green grass, and in the +middle there was a small rivulet of water. I spurred my horse on, +expecting to be in the high-road in a moment; the horse, however, snorted +and stared wildly, and was evidently unwilling to cross the seemingly +inviting spot. I thought that the scent of a wolf or some other wild +animal might have disturbed him, but was soon undeceived by his sinking +up to the knees in a bog. The animal uttered a shrill sharp neigh, and +exhibited every sign of the greatest terror, making at the same time +great efforts to extricate himself, and plunging forward, but every +moment sinking deeper. At last he arrived where a small vein of rock +showed itself: on this he placed his fore feet, and with one tremendous +exertion freed himself from the deceitful soil, springing over the +rivulet and alighting on comparatively firm ground, where he stood +panting, his heaving sides covered with a foamy sweat. Antonio, who had +observed the whole scene, afraid to venture forward, returned by the path +by which we came, and shortly afterwards rejoined me. This adventure +brought to my recollection the meadow with its footpath which tempted +Christian from the straight road to heaven, and finally conducted him to +the dominions of the giant Despair. + +We now began to descend the valley by a broad and excellent _carretera_ +or carriage-road, which was cut out of the steep side of the mountain on +our right. On our left was the gorge, down which tumbled the runnel of +water which I have before mentioned. The road was tortuous, and at every +turn the scene became more picturesque. The gorge gradually widened, and +the brook at its bottom, fed by a multitude of springs, increased in +volume and in sound; but it was soon far beneath us, pursuing its +headlong course till it reached level ground, where it flowed in the +midst of a beautiful but confined prairie. There was something sylvan +and savage in the mountains on the farther side, clad from foot to +pinnacle with trees, so closely growing that the eye was unable to obtain +a glimpse of the hillsides, which were uneven with ravines and gulleys, +the haunts of the wolf, the wild boar, and the _corso_, {331a} or +mountain stag; the latter of which, as I was informed by a peasant who +was driving a car of oxen, frequently descended to feed in the prairie, +and were there shot for the sake of their skins, for the flesh, being +strong and disagreeable, is held in no account. + +But notwithstanding the wildness of these regions, the handiworks of man +were visible. The sides of the gorge, though precipitous, were yellow +with little fields of barley, and we saw a hamlet and church down in the +prairie below, whilst merry songs ascended to our ears from where the +mowers were toiling with their scythes, cutting the luxuriant and +abundant grass. I could scarcely believe that I was in Spain, in general +so brown, so arid and cheerless, and I almost fancied myself in Greece, +in that land of ancient glory, whose mountain and forest scenery +Theocritus {331b} has so well described. + +At the bottom of the valley we entered a small village, washed by the +brook, which had now swelled almost to a stream. A more romantic +situation I had never witnessed. It was surrounded, and almost overhung, +by mountains, and embowered in trees of various kinds; waters sounded, +nightingales sang, and the cuckoo’s full note boomed from the distant +branches, but the village was miserable. The huts were built of slate +stones, of which the neighbouring hills seemed to be principally +composed, and roofed with the same, but not in the neat tidy manner of +English houses, for the slates were of all sizes and seemed to be flung +on in confusion. We were spent with heat and thirst, and sitting down on +a stone bench, I entreated a woman to give me a little water. The woman +said she would, but added that she expected to be paid for it. Antonio, +on hearing this, became highly incensed, and speaking Greek, Turkish, and +Spanish, invoked the vengeance of the _Panhagia_ on the heartless woman, +saying, “If I were to offer a Mahometan gold for a draught of water he +would dash it in my face; and you are a Catholic, with the stream running +at your door.” I told him to be silent, and giving the woman two +_cuartos_, repeated my request, whereupon she took a pitcher, and going +to the stream, filled it with water. It tasted muddy and disagreeable, +but it drowned the fever which was devouring me. + +We again remounted and proceeded on our way, which, for a considerable +distance, lay along the margin of the stream, which now fell in small +cataracts, now brawled over stones, and at other times ran dark and +silent through deep pools overhung with tall willows,—pools which seemed +to abound with the finny tribe, for large trout frequently sprang from +the water, catching the brilliant fly which skimmed along its deceitful +surface. The scene was delightful. The sun was rolling high in the +firmament, casting from its orb of fire the most glorious rays, so that +the atmosphere was flickering with their splendour; but their fierceness +was either warded off by the shadow of the trees, or rendered innocuous +by the refreshing coolness which rose from the waters, or by the gentle +breezes which murmured at intervals over the meadows, “fanning the cheek +or raising the hair” of the wanderer. The hills gradually receded, till +at last we entered a plain where tall grass was waving, and mighty +chestnut trees, in full blossom, spread out their giant and umbrageous +boughs. Beneath many stood cars, the tired oxen prostrate on the ground, +the cross-bar of the pole which they support pressing heavily on their +heads, whilst their drivers were either employed in cooking, or were +enjoying a delicious _siesta_ in the grass and shade. I went up to one +of the largest of these groups and demanded of the individuals whether +they were in need of the Testament of Jesus Christ. They stared at one +another, and then at me, till at last a young man, who was dangling a +long gun in his hands as he reclined, demanded of me what it was, at the +same time inquiring whether I was a Catalan, “for you speak hoarse,” said +he, “and are tall and fair like that family.” I sat down amongst them, +and said that I was no Catalan, but that I came from a spot in the +Western Sea, many leagues distant, to sell that book at half the price it +cost; and that their souls’ welfare depended on their being acquainted +with it. I then explained to them the nature of the New Testament, and +read to them the parable of the Sower. They stared at each other again, +but said that they were poor, and could not buy books. I rose, mounted, +and was going away, saying to them, “Peace bide with you.” Whereupon the +young man with the gun rose, and saying, “_Caspita_! this is odd,” +snatched the book from my hand, and gave me the price I had demanded. + +Perhaps the whole world might be searched in vain for a spot whose +natural charms could rival those of this plain or valley of Bembibre, +{333} as it is called, with its wall of mighty mountains, its spreading +chestnut trees, and its groves of oaks and willows, which clothe the +banks of its stream, a tributary to the Minho. True it is, that when I +passed through it the candle of heaven was blazing in full splendour, and +everything lighted by its rays looked gay, glad, and blessed. Whether it +would have filled me with the same feelings of admiration if viewed +beneath another sky, I will not pretend to determine; but it certainly +possesses advantages which at no time could fail to delight, for it +exhibits all the peaceful beauties of an English landscape blended with +something wild and grand, and I thought within myself that he must be a +restless, dissatisfied man, who, born amongst those scenes, would wish to +quit them. At the time I would have desired no better fate than that of +a shepherd on the prairies, or a hunter on the hills of Bembibre. + +Three hours passed away, and we were in another situation. We had halted +and refreshed ourselves and horses at Bembibre, a village of mud and +slate, and which possessed little to attract attention. We were now +ascending, for the road was over one of the extreme ledges of those +frontier hills which I have before so often mentioned; but the aspect of +heaven had blackened, clouds were rolling rapidly from the west over the +mountains, and a cold wind was moaning dismally. “There is a storm +travelling through the air,” said a peasant, whom we overtook mounted on +a wretched mule, “and the Asturians had better be on the look-out, for it +is speeding in their direction.” He had scarce spoken when a light, so +vivid and dazzling that it seemed as if the whole lustre of the fiery +element were concentrated in it, broke around us, filling the whole +atmosphere, and covering rock, tree, and mountain with a glare not to be +described. The mule of the peasant tumbled prostrate, while the horse I +rode reared himself perpendicularly, and, turning round, dashed down the +hill at headlong speed, which for some time it was impossible to check. +The lightning was followed by a peal almost as terrible, but distant, for +it sounded hollow and deep; the hills, however, caught up its voice, +seemingly repeating it from summit to summit, till it was lost in +interminable space. Other flashes and peals succeeded, but slight in +comparison, and a few drops of rain descended. The body of the tempest +seemed to be over another region. “A hundred families are weeping where +that bolt fell,” said the peasant when I rejoined him, “for its blaze has +blinded my mule at six leagues’ distance.” He was leading the animal by +the bridle, as its sight was evidently affected. “Were the friars still +in their nest above there,” he continued, “I should say that this was +their doing, for they are the cause of all the miseries of the land.” + +I raised my eyes in the direction in which he pointed. Halfway up the +mountain, over whose foot we were wending, jutted forth a black +frightful, crag, which, at an immense altitude, overhung the road, and +seemed to threaten destruction. It resembled one of those ledges of the +rocky mountains in the picture of the Deluge, up to which the terrified +fugitives have scrambled from the eager pursuit of the savage and +tremendous billows, and from whence they gaze down in horror, whilst +above them rise still higher and giddier heights, to which they seem +unable to climb. Built on the very edge of this crag stood an edifice, +seemingly devoted to the purposes of religion, as I could discern the +spire of a church rearing itself high over wall and roof. “That is the +house of the Virgin of the Rocks,” said the peasant, “and it was lately +full of friars, but they have been thrust out, and the only inmates now +are owls and ravens.” I replied, that their life in such a bleak, +exposed abode could not have been very enviable, as in winter they must +have incurred great risk of perishing with cold. “By no means,” said he; +“they had the best of wood for their _braseros_ and chimneys, and the +best of wine to warm them at their meals, which were not the most +sparing. Moreover, they had another convent down in the vale yonder, to +which they could retire at their pleasure.” On my asking him the reason +of his antipathy to the friars, he replied, that he had been their +vassal, and that they had deprived him every year of the flower of what +he possessed. Discoursing in this manner, we reached a village just +below the convent, where he left me, having first pointed out to me a +house of stone, with an image over the door, which, he said, once +belonged to the _canalla_ {337a} above. + +The sun was setting fast, and, eager to reach Villafranca, {337b} where I +had determined on resting, and which was still distant three leagues and +a half, I made no halt at this place. The road was now down a rapid and +crooked descent, which terminated in a valley, at the bottom of which was +a long and narrow bridge; beneath it rolled a river, descending from a +wide pass between two mountains, for the chain was here cleft, probably +by some convulsion of nature. I looked up the pass, and on the hills on +both sides. Far above on my right, but standing forth bold and clear, +and catching the last rays of the sun, was the Convent of the Precipices, +whilst directly over against it, on the farther side of the valley, rose +the perpendicular side of the rival hill, which, to a considerable extent +intercepting the light, flung its black shadow over the upper end of the +pass, involving it in mysterious darkness. Emerging from the centre of +this gloom, with thundering sound, dashed a river, white with foam, and +bearing along with it huge stones and branches of trees, for it was the +wild Sil hurrying to the ocean from its cradle in the heart of the +Asturian hills, and probably swollen by the recent rains. + +Hours again passed away. It was now night, and we were in the midst of +woodlands, feeling our way, for the darkness was so great that I could +scarcely see the length of a yard before my horse’s head. The animal +seemed uneasy, and would frequently stop short, prick up his ears, and +utter a low mournful whine. Flashes of sheet lightning frequently +illumined the black sky, and flung a momentary glare over our path. No +sound interrupted the stillness of the night, except the slow tramp of +the horses’ hoofs, and occasionally the croaking of frogs from some pool +or morass. I now bethought me that I was in Spain, the chosen land of +the two fiends—assassination and plunder—and how easily two tired and +unarmed wanderers might become their victims. + +We at last cleared the woodlands, and, after proceeding a short distance, +the horse gave a joyous neigh, and broke into a smart trot. A barking of +dogs speedily reached my ears, and we seemed to be approaching some town +or village. In effect we were close to Cacabelos, a town about five +miles distant from Villafranca. + +It was near eleven at night, and I reflected that it would be far more +expedient to tarry in this place till the morning than to attempt at +present to reach Villafranca, exposing ourselves to all the horrors of +darkness in a lonely and unknown road. My mind was soon made up on this +point; but I reckoned without my host, for at the first _posada_ which I +attempted to enter I was told that we could not be accommodated, and +still less our horses, as the stable was full of water. At the second, +and there were but two, I was answered from the window by a gruff voice, +nearly in the words of Scripture: “Trouble me not: the door is now shut, +and my children are with me in bed; I cannot arise to let you in.” +Indeed, we had no particular desire to enter, as it appeared a wretched +hovel, though the poor horses pawed piteously against the door, and +seemed to crave admittance. + +We had now no choice but to resume our doleful way to Villafranca, which +we were told was a short league distant, though it proved a league and a +half. We found it no easy matter to quit the town, for we were +bewildered amongst its labyrinths, and could not find the outlet. A lad +about eighteen was, however, persuaded, by the promise of a _peseta_, to +guide us: whereupon he led us by many turnings to a bridge, which he told +us to cross, and to follow the road, which was that of Villafranca; he +then, having received his fee, hastened from us. + +We followed his directions, not, however, without a suspicion that he +might be deceiving us. The night had settled darker down upon us, so +that it was impossible to distinguish any object, however nigh. The +lightning had become more faint and rare. We heard the rustling of +trees, and occasionally the barking of dogs, which last sound, however, +soon ceased, and we were in the midst of night and silence. My horse, +either from weariness or the badness of the road, frequently stumbled; +whereupon I dismounted, and leading him by the bridle, soon left Antonio +far in the rear. + +I had proceeded in this manner a considerable way, when a circumstance +occurred of a character well suited to the time and place. + +I was again amidst trees and bushes, when the horse, stopping short, +nearly pulled me back. I know not how it was, but fear suddenly came +over me, which, though in darkness and in solitude, I had not felt +before. I was about to urge the animal forward, when I heard a noise at +my right hand, and listened attentively. It seemed to be that of a +person or persons forcing their way through branches and brushwood. It +soon ceased, and I heard feet on the road. It was the short staggering +kind of tread of people carrying a very heavy substance, nearly too much +for their strength, and I thought I heard the hurried breathing of men +over-fatigued. There was a short pause, during which I conceived they +were resting in the middle of the road; then the stamping recommenced, +until it reached the other side, when I again heard a similar rustling +amidst branches; it continued for some time, and died gradually away. + +I continued my road, musing on what had just occurred, and forming +conjectures as to the cause. The lightning resumed its flashing, and I +saw that I was approaching tall black mountains. + +This nocturnal journey endured so long that I almost lost all hope of +reaching the town, and had closed my eyes in a doze, though I still +trudged on mechanically, leading the horse. Suddenly a voice at a slight +distance before me roared out, “_Quien vive_?” for I had at last found my +way to Villafranca. It proceeded from the sentry in the suburb, one of +those singular half soldiers, half _guerillas_, {340} called Miguelets, +who are in general employed by the Spanish government to clear the roads +of robbers. I gave the usual answer, “_España_,” and went up to the +place where he stood. After a little conversation, I sat down on a +stone, awaiting the arrival of Antonio, who was long in making his +appearance. On his arrival, I asked if any one had passed him on the +road, but he replied that he had seen nothing. The night, or rather the +morning, was still very dark, though a small corner of the moon was +occasionally visible. On our inquiring the way to the gate, the Miguelet +directed us down a street to the left, which we followed. The street was +steep, we could see no gate, and our progress was soon stopped by houses +and wall. We knocked at the gates of two or three of these houses (in +the upper stories of which lights were burning), for the purpose of being +set right, but we were either disregarded or not heard. A horrid +squalling of cats, from the tops of the houses and dark corners, saluted +our ears, and I thought of the night arrival of Don Quixote and his +squire at Toboso, and their vain search amongst the deserted streets for +the palace of Dulcinea. {341} At length we saw light and heard voices in +a cottage at the other side of a kind of ditch. Leading the horses over, +we called at the door, which was opened by an aged man, who appeared by +his dress to be a baker, as indeed he proved, which accounted for his +being up at so late an hour. On begging him to show us the way into the +town, he led us up a very narrow alley at the end of his cottage, saying +that he would likewise conduct us to the _posada_. + +The alley led directly to what appeared to be the market-place, at a +corner house of which our guide stopped and knocked. After a long pause +an upper window was opened, and a female voice demanded who we were. The +old man replied, that two travellers had arrived who were in need of +lodgings. “I cannot be disturbed at this time of night,” said the woman; +“they will be wanting supper, and there is nothing in the house; they +must go elsewhere.” She was going to shut the window, but I cried that +we wanted no supper, but merely a resting-place for ourselves and +horses—that we had come that day from Astorga, and were dying with +fatigue. “Who is that speaking?” cried the woman. “Surely that is the +voice of Gil, the German clockmaker from Pontevedra. Welcome, old +companion; you are come at the right time, for my own is out of order. I +am sorry I have kept you waiting, but I will admit you in a moment.” + +The window was slammed to, presently a light shone through the crevices +of the door, a key turned in the lock, and we were admitted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +Villafranca—The Pass—Gallegan Simplicity—The Frontier Guard—The +Horse-shoe—Gallegan Peculiarities—A Word on Language—The Courier—Wretched +Cabins—Host and Guests—Andalusians. + +“Ave Maria,” said the woman; “whom have we here? This is not Gil the +clockmaker.” “Whether it be Gil or Juan,” said I, “we are in need of +your hospitality, and can pay for it.” Our first care was to stable the +horses, who were much exhausted. We then went in search of some +accommodation for ourselves. The house was large and commodious, and, +having tasted a little water, I stretched myself on the floor of one of +the rooms on some mattresses which the woman produced, and in less than a +minute was sound asleep. + +The sun was shining bright when I awoke. I walked forth into the +market-place, which was crowded with people. I looked up, and could see +the peaks of tall black mountains peeping over the tops of the houses. +The town lay in a deep hollow, and appeared to be surrounded by hills on +almost every side. “_Quel pays barbare_!” said Antonio, who now joined +me; “the farther we go, my master, the wilder everything looks. I am +half afraid to venture into Galicia; they tell me that to get to it we +must clamber up those hills: the horses will founder.” Leaving the +marketplace, I ascended the wall of the town, and endeavoured to discover +the gate by which we should have entered the preceding night; but I was +not more successful in the bright sunshine than in the darkness. The +town in the direction of Astorga appeared to be hermetically sealed. + +I was eager to enter Galicia, and finding that the horses were to a +certain extent recovered from the fatigue of the journey of the preceding +day, we again mounted and proceeded on our way. Crossing a bridge, we +presently found ourselves in a deep gorge amongst the mountains, down +which rushed an impetuous rivulet, overhung by the high-road which leads +into Galicia. We were in the far-famed pass of Fuencebadon. + +It is impossible to describe this pass or the circumjacent region, which +contains some of the most extraordinary scenery in all Spain; a feeble +and imperfect outline is all that I can hope to effect. The traveller +who ascends it follows for nearly a league the course of the torrent, +whose banks are in some places precipitous, and in others slope down to +the waters, and are covered with lofty trees, oaks, poplars, and +chestnuts. Small villages are at first continually seen, with low walls, +and roofs formed of immense slates, the eaves nearly touching the ground; +these hamlets, however, gradually become less frequent as the path grows +more steep and narrow, until they finally cease at a short distance +before the spot is attained where the rivulet is abandoned, and is no +more seen, though its tributaries may yet be heard in many a gully, or +descried in tiny rills dashing down the steeps. Everything here is wild, +strange, and beautiful: the hill up which winds the path towers above on +the right, whilst on the farther side of a profound ravine rises an +immense mountain, to whose extreme altitudes the eye is scarcely able to +attain; but the most singular feature of this pass are the hanging fields +or meadows which cover its sides. In these, as I passed, the grass was +growing luxuriantly, and in many the mowers were plying their scythes, +though it seemed scarcely possible that their feet could find support on +ground so precipitous; above and below were driftways, so small as to +seem threads along the mountain side. A car, drawn by oxen, is creeping +round yon airy eminence; the nearer wheel is actually hanging over the +horrid descent; giddiness seizes the brain, and the eye is rapidly +withdrawn. A cloud intervenes, and when again you turn to watch their +progress, the objects of your anxiety have disappeared. Still more +narrow becomes the path along which you yourself are toiling, and its +turns more frequent. You have already come a distance of two leagues, +and still one-third of the ascent remains unsurmounted. You are not yet +in Galicia; and you still hear Castilian, coarse and unpolished, it is +true, spoken in the miserable cabins placed in the sequestered nooks +which you pass by in your route. + +Shortly before we reached the summit of the pass thick mists began to +envelope the tops of the hills, and a drizzling rain descended. “These +mists,” said Antonio, “are what the Gallegans call _bretima_; and it is +said there is never any lack of them in their country.” “Have you ever +visited the country before?” I demanded. “_Non_, _mon maître_; but I +have frequently lived in houses where the domestics were in part +Gallegans, on which account I know not a little of their ways, and even +something of their language.” “Is the opinion which you have formed of +them at all in their favour?” I inquired. “By no means, _mon maître_; +the men in general seem clownish and simple, yet they are capable of +deceiving the most clever _filou_ of Paris; and as for the women, it is +impossible to live in the same house with them, more especially if they +are _camareras_, and wait upon the _señora_; they are continually +breeding dissensions and disputes in the house, and telling tales of the +other domestics. I have already lost two or three excellent situations +in Madrid, solely owing to these Gallegan chambermaids. We have now come +to the frontier, _mon maître_, for such I conceive this village to be.” + +We entered the village, which stood on the summit of the mountain, and, +as our horses and ourselves were by this time much fatigued, we looked +round for a place in which to obtain refreshment. Close by the gate +stood a building which, from the circumstance of a mule or two and a +wretched pony standing before it, we concluded was the _posada_, as in +effect it proved to be. We entered: several soldiers were lolling on +heaps of coarse hay, with which the place, which much resembled a stable, +was half filled. All were exceedingly ill-looking fellows, and very +dirty. They were conversing with each other in a strange-sounding +dialect, which I supposed to be Gallegan. Scarcely did they perceive us +when two or three of them, starting from their couch, ran up to Antonio, +whom they welcomed with much affection, calling him _companheiro_. “How +came you to know these men?” I demanded in French: “_Ces messieurs sont +presque tous de ma connoissance_,” he replied, “_et_, _entre nous_, _ce +sont de __véritables vauriens_; they are almost all robbers and +assassins. That fellow with one eye, who is the corporal, escaped a +little time ago from Madrid, more than suspected of being concerned in an +affair of poisoning; but he is safe enough here in his own country, and +is placed to guard the frontier, as you see? but we must treat them +civilly, _man maître_; we must give them wine, or they will be offended. +I know them, _mon maître_—I know them. Here, hostess, bring an _azumbre_ +of wine.” + +Whilst Antonio was engaged in treating his friends, I led the horses to +the stable; this was through the house, inn, or whatever it might be +called. The stable was a wretched shed, in which the horses sank to +their fetlocks in mud and puddle. On inquiring for barley, I was told +that I was now in Galicia, where barley was not used for provender, and +was very rare. I was offered in lieu of it Indian corn, which, however, +the horses ate without hesitation. There was no straw to be had; coarse +hay, half green, being the substitute. By trampling about in the mud of +the stable my horse soon lost a shoe, for which I searched in vain. “Is +there a blacksmith in the village?” I demanded of a shock-headed fellow +who officiated as ostler. + +_Ostler_.—_Si_, _Senhor_; {347} but I suppose you have brought horseshoes +with you, or that large beast of yours cannot be shod in this village. + +_Myself_.—What do you mean? Is the blacksmith unequal to his trade? +Cannot he put on a horseshoe? + +_Ostler_.—_Si_, _Senhor_; he can put on a horseshoe, if you give it him; +but there are no horseshoes in Galicia, at least in these parts. + +_Myself_.—Is it not customary, then, to shoe the horses in Galicia? + +_Ostler_.—_Senhor_, there are no horses in Galicia, there are only +ponies; and those who bring horses to Galicia—and none but madmen ever +do—must bring shoes to fit them; only shoes of ponies are to be found +here. + +_Myself_.—What do you mean by saying that only madmen bring horses to +Galicia? + +_Ostler_.—_Senhor_, no horse can stand the food of Galicia and the +mountains of Galicia long, without falling sick; and then, if he does not +die at once, he will cost you in farriers more than he is worth. +Besides, a horse is of no use here, and cannot perform amongst the broken +ground the tenth part of the service which a little pony mare can. +By-the-by, _Senhor_, I perceive that yours is an entire horse; now out of +twenty ponies that you see on the roads of Galicia, nineteen are mares; +the males are sent down into Castile to be sold. _Senhor_, your horse +will become heated on our roads, and will catch the bad glanders, for +which there is no remedy. _Senhor_, a man must be mad to bring any horse +to Galicia, but twice mad to bring an _entero_, as you have done. + +“A strange country this of Galicia,” said I, and went to consult with +Antonio. + +It appeared that the information of the ostler was literally true with +regard to the horseshoe; at least, the blacksmith of the village, to whom +we conducted the animal, confessed his inability to shoe him, having none +that would fit his hoof. He said it was very probable that we should be +obliged to lead the animal to Lugo, which being a cavalry station, we +might perhaps find there what we wanted. He added, however, that the +greatest part of the cavalry soldiers were mounted on the ponies of the +country, the mortality amongst the horses brought from the level ground +into Galicia being frightful. Lugo was ten leagues distant: there +seemed, however, to be no remedy at hand but patience, and, having +refreshed ourselves, we proceeded, leading our horses by the bridle. + +We were now on level ground, being upon the very top of one of the +highest mountains in Galicia. This level continued for about a league, +when we began to descend. Before we had crossed the plain, which was +overgrown with furze and brushwood, we came suddenly upon half a dozen +fellows, armed with muskets, and wearing a tattered uniform. We at first +supposed them to be banditti: they were, however, only a party of +soldiers, who had been detached from the station we had just quitted to +escort one of the provincial posts or couriers. They were clamorous for +cigars, but offered us no further incivility. Having no cigars to +bestow, I gave them in lieu thereof a small piece of silver. Two of the +worst looking were very eager to be permitted to escort us to Nogales, +the village where we proposed to spend the night. “By no means permit +them, _mon maître_,” said Antonio. “They are two famous assassins of my +acquaintance; I have known them at Madrid. In the first ravine they will +shoot and plunder us.” I therefore civilly declined their offer and +departed. “You seem to be acquainted with all the cut-throats in +Galicia,” said I to Antonio, as we descended the hill. + +“With respect to those two fellows,” he replied, “I knew them when I +lived as cook in the family of General Q---, who is a Gallegan: they were +sworn friends of the _repostero_. All the Gallegans in Madrid know each +other, whether high or low makes no difference; there, at least, they are +all good friends, and assist each other on all imaginable occasions; and +if there be a Gallegan domestic in a house, the kitchen is sure to be +filled with his countrymen, as the cook frequently knows to his cost, for +they generally contrive to eat up any little perquisites which he may +have reserved for himself and family.” + +Somewhat less than halfway down the mountain we reached a small village. +On observing a blacksmith’s shop, we stopped, in the faint hope of +finding a shoe for the horse, who, for want of one, was rapidly becoming +lame. To our great joy we found that the smith was in possession of one +single horseshoe, which some time previously he had found upon the way. +This, after undergoing much hammering and alteration, was pronounced by +the Gallegan Vulcan to be capable of serving in lieu of a better; +whereupon we again mounted, and slowly continued our descent. + +Shortly ere sunset we arrived at Nogales, a hamlet situate in a narrow +valley at the foot of the mountain, in traversing which we had spent the +day. Nothing could be more picturesque than the appearance of this spot: +steep hills, thickly clad with groves and forests of chestnuts, +surrounded it on every side; the village itself was almost embowered in +trees, and close beside it ran a purling brook. Here we found a +tolerably large and commodious _posada_. + +I was languid and fatigued, but felt little desire to sleep. Antonio +cooked our supper, or rather his own, for I had no appetite. I sat by +the door, gazing at the wood-covered heights above me, or on the waters +of the rivulet, occasionally listening to the people who lounged about +the house, conversing in the country dialect. What a strange tongue is +the Gallegan, with its half-singing, half-whining accent, and with its +confused jumble of words from many languages, but chiefly from the +Spanish and Portuguese! {351} “Can you understand this conversation?” I +demanded of Antonio, who had by this time rejoined me. “I cannot, _mon +maître_,” he replied; “I have acquired at various times a great many +words amongst the Gallegan domestics in the kitchens where I have +officiated as cook, but am quite unable to understand any long +conversation. I have heard the Gallegans say that in no two villages is +it spoken in one and the same manner, and that very frequently they do +not understand each other. The worst of this language is, that everybody +on first hearing it thinks that nothing is more easy than to understand +it, as words are continually occurring which he has heard before; but +these merely serve to bewilder and puzzle him, causing him to +misunderstand everything that is said; whereas, if he were totally +ignorant of the tongue, he would occasionally give a shrewd guess at what +was meant, as I myself frequently do when I hear Basque spoken, though +the only word which I know of that language is _jaunguicoa_.” + +As the night closed in I retired to bed, where I remained four or five +hours, restless and tossing about, the fever of Leon still clinging to my +system. It was considerably past midnight when, just as I was sinking +into a slumber, I was aroused by a confused noise in the village, and the +glare of lights through the lattice of the window of the room where I +lay; presently entered Antonio, half dressed. “_Mon maître_,” said he, +“the grand post from Madrid to Corunna has just arrived in the village, +attended by a considerable escort, and an immense number of travellers. +The road, they say, between here and Lugo is infested with robbers and +Carlists, who are committing all kinds of atrocities; let us, therefore, +avail ourselves of the opportunity, and by midday to-morrow we shall find +ourselves safe in Lugo.” On hearing these words, I instantly sprang out +of bed and dressed myself, telling Antonio to prepare the horses with all +speed. + +We were soon mounted and in the street, amidst a confused throng of men +and quadrupeds. The light of a couple of flambeaus, which were borne +before the courier, shone on the arms of several soldiers, seemingly +drawn up on either side of the road; the darkness, however, prevented me +from distinguishing objects very clearly. The courier himself was +mounted on a little shaggy pony; before and behind him were two immense +portmanteaus, or leather sacks, the ends of which nearly touched the +ground. For about a quarter of an hour there was much hubbub, shouting, +and trampling, at the end of which period the order was given to proceed. +Scarcely had we left the village when the flambeaus were extinguished, +and we were left in almost total darkness; for some time we were amongst +woods and trees, as was evident from the rustling of leaves on every +side. My horse was very uneasy and neighed fearfully, occasionally +raising himself bolt upright. “If your horse is not more quiet, +cavalier, we shall be obliged to shoot him,” said a voice in an +Andalusian accent; “he disturbs the whole cavalcade.” “That would be a +pity, sergeant,” I replied, “for he is a Cordovese by the four sides; he +is not used to the ways of this barbarous country.” “Oh, he is a +Cordovese,” said the voice; “_vaya_, I did not know that; I am from +Cordova myself. _Pobrecito_! let me pat him—yes, I know by his coat that +he is my countryman. Shoot him, indeed! _vaya_, I would fain see the +Gallegan devil who would dare to harm him. Barbarous country, _yo lo +creo_: {353} neither oil nor olives, bread nor barley. You have been at +Cordova. _Vaya_; oblige me, cavalier, by taking this cigar.” + +In this manner we proceeded for several hours, up hill and down dale, but +generally at a very slow pace. The soldiers who escorted us from time to +time sang patriotic songs, breathing love and attachment to the young +Queen Isabel, and detestation of the grim tyrant Carlos. One of the +stanzas which reached my ears ran something in the following style:— + + “Don Carlos is a hoary churl, + Of cruel heart and cold; + But Isabel’s a harmless girl, + Of only six years old.” + +At last the day began to break, and I found myself amidst a train of two +or three hundred people, some on foot, but the greater part mounted, +either on mules or the pony mares: I could not distinguish a single horse +except my own and Antonio’s. A few soldiers were thinly scattered along +the road. The country was hilly, but less mountainous and picturesque +than the one which we had traversed the preceding day; it was for the +most part partitioned into small fields, which were planted with maize. +At the distance of every two or three leagues we changed our escort, at +some village where was stationed a detachment. The villages were mostly +an assemblage of wretched cabins; the roofs were thatched, dank, and +moist, and not unfrequently covered with rank vegetation. There were +dung-hills before the doors, and no lack of pools and puddles. Immense +swine were stalking about, intermingled with naked children. The +interior of the cabins corresponded with their external appearance: they +were filled with filth and misery. + +We reached Lugo about two hours past noon. During the last two or three +leagues I became so overpowered with weariness, the result of want of +sleep and my late illness, that I was continually dozing in my saddle, so +that I took but little notice of what was passing. We put up at a large +_posada_ without the wall of the town, built upon a steep bank, and +commanding an extensive view of the country towards the east. Shortly +after our arrival, the rain began to descend in torrents, and continued +without intermission during the next two days, which was, however, to me +but a slight source of regret, as I passed the entire time in bed, and I +may almost say in slumber. On the evening of the third day I arose. + +There was much bustle in the house, caused by the arrival of a family +from Corunna; they came in a large jaunting car, escorted by four +carabineers. The family was rather numerous, consisting of a father, +son, and eleven daughters, the eldest of whom might be about eighteen. A +shabby-looking fellow, dressed in a jerkin and wearing a high-crowned +hat, attended as domestic. They arrived very wet and shivering, and all +seemed very disconsolate, especially the father, who was a well-looking +middle-aged man. “Can we be accommodated?” he demanded in a gentle voice +of the man of the house; “can we be accommodated in this _fonda_?” + +“Certainly, your worship,” replied the other; “our house is large. How +many apartments does your worship require for your family?” + +“One will be sufficient,” replied the stranger. + +The host, who was a gouty personage and leaned upon a stick, looked for a +moment at the traveller, then at every member of his family, not +forgetting the domestic, and, without any farther comment than a slight +shrug, led the way to the door of an apartment containing two or three +flock beds, and which on my arrival I had objected to as being small, +dark, and incommodious; this he flung open, and demanded whether it would +serve. + +“It is rather small,” replied the gentleman; “I think, however, that it +will do.” + +“I am glad of it,” replied the host. “Shall we make any preparations for +the supper of your worship and family?” + +“No, I thank you,” replied the stranger; “my own domestic will prepare +the slight refreshment we are in need of.” + +The key was delivered to the domestic, and the whole family ensconced +themselves in their apartment: before, however, this was effected, the +escort were dismissed, the principal carabineer being presented with a +_peseta_. The man stood surveying the gratuity for about half a minute, +as it glittered in the palm of his hand; then with an abrupt _Vamos_! he +turned upon his heel, and without a word of salutation to any person, +departed with the men under his command. + +“Who can these strangers be?” said I to the host, as we sat together in a +large corridor open on one side, and which occupied the entire front of +the house. + +“I know not,” he replied, “but by their escort I suppose they are people +holding some official situation. They are not of this province, however, +and I more than suspect them to be Andalusians.” + +In a few minutes the door of the apartment occupied by the strangers was +opened, and the domestic appeared, bearing a cruise in his hand. “Pray, +_Señor Patron_,” demanded he, “where can I buy some oil?” + +“There is oil in the house,” replied the host, “if you want to purchase +any; but if, as is probable, you suppose that we shall gain a _cuarto_ by +selling it, you will find some over the way. It is as I suspected,” +continued the host, when the man had departed on his errand; “they are +Andalusians, and are about to make what they call _gazpacho_, on which +they will all sup. Oh, the meanness of these Andalusians! they are come +here to suck the vitals of Galicia, and yet envy the poor innkeeper the +gain of a _cuarto_ in the oil which they require for their _gazpacho_. I +tell you one thing, master, when that fellow returns, and demands bread +and garlic to mix with the oil, I will tell him there is none in the +house: as he has bought the oil abroad, so he may the bread and garlic; +ay, and the water too, for that matter.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +Lugo—The Baths—A Family History—Miguelets—The Three Heads—A +Farrier—English Squadron—Sale of Testaments—Corunna—The Recognition—Luigi +Piozzi—The Speculation—A Blank Prospect—John Moore. + +At Lugo I found a wealthy bookseller, to whom I brought a letter of +recommendation from Madrid. He willingly undertook the sale of my books. +The Lord deigned to favour my feeble exertions in his cause at Lugo. I +brought thither thirty Testaments, all of which were disposed of in one +day; the bishop of the place—for Lugo is an episcopal see—purchasing two +copies for himself, whilst several priests and ex-friars, instead of +following the example of their brethren at Leon, by persecuting the work, +spoke well of it and recommended its perusal. I was much grieved that my +stock of these holy books was exhausted, there being a great demand; and +had I been able to supply them, quadruple the quantity might have been +sold during the few days that I continued at Lugo. + +Lugo contains about six thousand inhabitants. It is situated on lofty +ground, and is defended by ancient walls. It possesses no very +remarkable edifice, and the cathedral church itself is a small mean +building. In the centre of the town is the principal square, a light +cheerful place, not surrounded by those heavy cumbrous buildings with +which the Spaniards both in ancient and modern times have encircled their +plazas. It is singular enough that Lugo, at present a place of very +little importance, should at one period have been the capital of Spain; +{359} yet such it was in the time of the Romans, who, as they were a +people not much guided by caprice, had doubtless very excellent reasons +for the preference which they gave to the locality. + +There are many Roman remains in the vicinity of this place, the most +remarkable of which are the ruins of the ancient medicinal baths, which +stand on the southern side of the river Minho, which creeps through the +valley beneath the town. The Minho in this place is a dark and sullen +stream, with high, precipitous, and thickly wooded banks. + +One evening I visited the baths, accompanied by my friend the bookseller. +They had been built over warm springs which flow into the river. +Notwithstanding their ruinous condition, they were crowded with sick, +hoping to derive benefit from the waters, which are still famed for their +sanative power. These patients exhibited a strange spectacle as, wrapped +in flannel gowns much resembling shrouds, they lay immersed in the tepid +waters amongst disjointed stones, and overhung with steam and reek. + +Three or four days after my arrival I was seated in the corridor, which, +as I have already observed, occupied the entire front of the house. The +sky was unclouded, and the sun shone most gloriously, enlivening every +object around. Presently the door of the apartment in which the +strangers were lodged opened, and forth walked the whole family, with the +exception of the father, who, I presumed, was absent on business. The +shabby domestic brought up the rear, and on leaving the apartment, +carefully locked the door, and secured the key in his pocket. The one +son and the eleven daughters were all dressed remarkably well: the boy +something after the English fashion, in jacket and trousers, the young +ladies in spotless white. They were, upon the whole, a very good-looking +family, with dark eyes and olive complexions, but the eldest daughter was +remarkably handsome. They arranged themselves upon the benches of the +corridor, the shabby domestic sitting down amongst them without any +ceremony whatever. They continued for some time in silence, gazing with +disconsolate looks upon the houses of the suburb and the dark walls of +the town, until the eldest daughter, or _señorita_ as she was called, +broke silence with an ‘_Ay Dios mio_!’ {360} + +_Domestic_.—_Ay Dios mio_! we have found our way to a pretty country. + +_Myself_.—I really can see nothing so very bad in the country, which is +by nature the richest in all Spain, and the most abundant. True it is +that the generality of the inhabitants are wretchedly poor, but they +themselves are to blame, and not the country. + +_Domestic_.—Cavalier, the country is a horrible one, say nothing to the +contrary. We are all frightened, the young ladies, the young gentleman, +and myself; even his worship is frightened, and says that we are come to +this country for our sins. It rains every day, and this is almost the +first time that we have seen the sun since our arrival. It rains +continually, and one cannot step out without being up to the ankles in +_fango_; and then, again, there is not a house to be found. + +_Myself_.—I scarcely understand you. There appears to be no lack of +houses in this neighbourhood. + +_Domestic_.—Excuse me, sir. His worship hired yesterday a house, for +which he engaged to pay fourteen-pence daily; but when the _señorita_ saw +it, she wept, and said it was no house, but a hog-stye, so his worship +paid one day’s rent and renounced his bargain. Fourteen-pence a day! +why, in our country, we can have a palace for that money. + +_Myself_.—From what country do you come? + +_Domestic_.—Cavalier, you appear to be a decent gentleman, and I will +tell you our history. We are from Andalusia, and his worship was last +year receiver-general for Granada: his salary was fourteen thousand +_reals_, with which we contrived to live very commodiously—attending the +bull _funcions_ regularly, or if there were no bulls, we went to see the +_novillos_, {361} and now and then to the opera. In a word, sir, we had +our diversions and felt at our ease; so much so that his worship was +actually thinking of purchasing a pony for the young gentleman, who is +fourteen, and must learn to ride now or never. Cavalier, the ministry +was changed, and the new-comers, who were no friends to his worship, +deprived him of his situation. Cavalier, they removed us from that +blessed country of Granada, where our salary was fourteen thousand +_reals_, and sent us to Galicia, to this fatal town of Lugo, where his +worship is compelled to serve for ten thousand, which is quite +insufficient to maintain us in our former comforts. Good-bye, I trow, to +bull _funcions_, and _novillos_, and the opera. Good-bye to the hope of +a horse for the young gentleman. Cavalier, I grow desperate: hold your +tongue, for God’s sake! for I can talk no more. + +On hearing this history I no longer wondered that the receiver-general +was eager to save a _cuarto_ in the purchase of the oil for the +_gazpacho_ of himself and family of eleven daughters, one son, and a +domestic. + +We staid one week at Lugo, and then directed our steps to Corunna, about +twelve leagues distant. We arose before daybreak in order to avail +ourselves of the escort of the general post, in whose company we +travelled upwards of six leagues. There was much talk of robbers, and +flying parties of the factious, on which account our escort was +considerable. At the distance of five or six leagues from Lugo, our +guard, in lieu of regular soldiers, consisted of a body of about fifty +Miguelets. They had all the appearance of banditti, but a finer body of +ferocious fellows I never saw. They were all men in the prime of life, +mostly of tall stature, and of Herculean brawn and limbs. They wore huge +whiskers, and walked with a fanfaronading air, as if they courted danger, +and despised it. In every respect they stood in contrast to the soldiers +who had hitherto escorted us, who were mere feeble boys from sixteen to +eighteen years of age, and possessed of neither energy nor activity. The +proper dress of the Miguelet, if it resembles anything military, is +something akin to that anciently used by the English marines. They wear +a peculiar kind of hat, and generally leggings, or gaiters, and their +arms are the gun and bayonet. The colour of their dress is mostly dark +brown. They observe little or no discipline, whether on a march or in +the field of action. They are excellent irregular troops, and when on +actual service are particularly useful as skirmishers. Their proper +duty, however, is to officiate as a species of police, and to clear the +roads of robbers, for which duty they are in one respect admirably +calculated, having been generally robbers themselves at one period of +their lives. Why these people are called Miguelets {363} it is not easy +to say, but it is probable that they have derived this appellation from +the name of their original leader. I regret that the paucity of my own +information will not allow me to enter into farther particulars with +respect to this corps, concerning which I have little doubt that many +remarkable things might be said. + +Becoming weary of the slow travelling of the post, I determined to brave +all risk, and to push forward. In this, however, I was guilty of no +slight imprudence, as by so doing I was near falling into the hands of +robbers. Two fellows suddenly confronted me with presented carbines, +which they probably intended to discharge into my body, but they took +fright at the noise of Antonio’s horse, who was following a little way +behind. This affair occurred at the bridge of Castellanos, a spot +notorious for robbery and murder, and well adapted for both, for it +stands at the bottom of a deep dell surrounded by wild desolate hills. +Only a quarter of an hour previous, I had passed three ghastly heads +stuck on poles standing by the way-side; they were those of a captain of +banditti and two of his accomplices, who had been seized and executed +about two months before. Their principal haunt was the vicinity of the +bridge, and it was their practice to cast the bodies of the murdered into +the deep black water which runs rapidly beneath. Those three heads will +always live in my remembrance, particularly that of the captain, which +stood on a higher pole than the other two: the long hair was waving in +the wind, and the blackened, distorted features were grinning in the sun. +The fellows whom I met were the relics of the band. + +We arrived at Betanzos late in the afternoon. This town stands on a +creek at some distance from the sea, and about three leagues from +Corunna. It is surrounded on three sides by lofty hills. The weather +during the greater part of the day had been dull and lowering, and we +found the atmosphere of Betanzos insupportably close and heavy. Sour and +disagreeable odours assailed our olfactory organs from all sides. The +streets were filthy—so were the houses, and especially the _posada_. We +entered the stable; it was strewed with rotten seaweeds and other +rubbish, in which pigs were wallowing; huge and loathsome flies were +buzzing around. “What a pest-house!” I exclaimed. But we could find no +other stable, and were therefore obliged to tether the unhappy animals to +the filthy mangers. The only provender that could be obtained was Indian +corn. At nightfall I led them to drink at a small river which passes +through Betanzos. My _entero_ swallowed the water greedily; but as we +returned towards the inn, I observed that he was sad, and that his head +drooped. He had scarcely reached the stall, when a deep hoarse cough +assailed him. I remembered the words of the ostler in the mountains. +“The man must be mad who brings a horse to Galicia, and doubly so he who +brings an _entero_.” During the greater part of the day the animal had +been much heated, walking amidst a throng of at least a hundred pony +mares. He now began to shiver violently. I procured a quart of anise +{365} brandy, with which, assisted by Antonio, I rubbed his body for +nearly an hour, till his coat was covered with a white foam; but his +cough increased perceptibly, his eyes were becoming fixed, and his +members rigid. “There is no remedy but bleeding,” said I. “Run for a +farrier.” The farrier came. “You must bleed the horse,” I shouted; +“take from him an _azumbre_ of blood.” The farrier looked at the animal, +and made for the door. “Where are you going?” I demanded. “Home,” he +replied. “But we want you here.” “I know you do,” was his answer; “and +on that account I am going.” “But you must bleed the horse, or he will +die.” “I know he will,” said the farrier, “but I will not bleed him.” +“Why?” I demanded. “I will not bleed him but under one condition.” +“What is that?” “What is it!—that you pay me an ounce of gold.” {366a} +“Run upstairs for the red morocco case,” said I to Antonio. The case was +brought; I took out a large fleam, and with the assistance of a stone, +drove it into the principal artery of the horse’s leg. The blood at +first refused to flow; at last, with much rubbing, it began to trickle, +and then to stream; it continued so for half an hour. “The horse is +fainting, _mon maître_,” said Antonio. “Hold him up,” said I, “and in +another ten minutes we will stop the vein.” + +I closed the vein, and whilst doing so I looked up into the farrier’s +face, arching my eyebrows. + +“_Carracho_! {366b} what an evil wizard!” {366c} muttered the farrier as +he walked away. “If I had my knife here I would stick him.” We bled the +horse again during the night, which second bleeding I believe saved him. +Towards morning he began to eat his food. + +The next day we departed for Corunna, leading our horses by the bridle. +The day was magnificent, and our walk delightful. We passed along +beneath tall umbrageous trees, which skirted the road from Betanzos to +within a short distance of Corunna. Nothing could be more smiling and +cheerful than the appearance of the country around. Vines were growing +in abundance in the vicinity of the villages through which we passed, +whilst millions of maize plants upreared their tall stalks and displayed +their broad green leaves in the fields. After walking about three hours, +we obtained a view of the Bay of Corunna, in which, even at the distance +of a league, we could distinguish three or four immense ships riding at +anchor. “Can these vessels belong to Spain?” I demanded of myself. In +the very next village, however, we were informed that the preceding +evening an English squadron had arrived, for what reason nobody could +say. “However,” continued our informant, “they have doubtless some +design upon Galicia. These foreigners are the ruin of Spain.” + +We put up in what is called the Calle Real, in an excellent _fonda_, or +_posada_, kept by a short, thick, comical-looking person, a Genoese by +birth. He was married to a tall, ugly, but good-tempered Basque woman, +by whom he had been blessed with a son and daughter. His wife, however, +had it seems of late summoned all her female relations from Guipuzcoa, +who now filled the house to the number of nine, officiating as +chambermaids, cooks, and scullions: they were all very ugly, but good +natured, and of immense volubility of tongue. Throughout the whole day +the house resounded with their excellent Basque and very bad Castilian. +The Genoese, on the contrary, spoke little, for which he might have +assigned a good reason: he had lived thirty years in Spain, and had +forgotten his own language without acquiring Spanish, which he spoke very +imperfectly. + +We found Corunna full of bustle and life, owing to the arrival of the +English squadron. On the following day, however, it departed, being +bound for the Mediterranean on a short cruise, whereupon matters +instantly returned to their usual course. + +I had a depôt of five hundred Testaments at Corunna, from which it was my +intention to supply the principal towns of Galicia. Immediately on my +arrival I published advertisements, according to my usual practice, and +the book obtained a tolerable sale—seven or eight copies per day on the +average. Some people, perhaps, on perusing these details, will be +tempted to exclaim, “These are small matters, and scarcely worthy of +being mentioned.” But let such bethink them that till within a few +months previous to the time of which I am speaking, the very existence of +the Gospel was almost unknown in Spain, that it must necessarily be a +difficult task to induce a people like the Spaniards, who read very +little, to purchase a work like the New Testament, which, though of +paramount importance to the soul, affords but slight prospect of +amusement to the frivolous and carnally-minded. I hoped that the present +was the dawning of better and more enlightened times, and rejoiced in the +idea that Testaments, though few in number, were being sold in +unfortunate benighted Spain, from Madrid to the furthermost parts of +Galicia, a distance of nearly four hundred miles. + +Corunna stands on a peninsula, having on one side the sea, and on the +other the celebrated bay, generally called the Groyne. {368} It is +divided into the old and new town, the latter of which was at one time +probably a mere suburb. The old town is a desolate ruinous place, +separated from the new by a wide moat. The modern town is a much more +agreeable spot, and contains one magnificent street, the Calle Real, +where the principal merchants reside. One singular feature of this +street is, that it is laid entirely with flags of marble, along which +troop ponies and cars as if it were a common pavement. + +It is a saying amongst the inhabitants of Corunna, that in their town +there is a street so clean that _puchera_ {369a} may be eaten off it +without the slightest inconvenience. This may certainly be the fact +after one of those rains which so frequently drench Galicia, when the +appearance of the pavement of the street is particularly brilliant. +Corunna was at one time a place of considerable commerce, the greater +part of which has lately departed to Santander, a town which stands a +considerable distance down the Bay of Biscay. + +“Are you going to St. James, {369b} _Giorgio_? If so, you will perhaps +convey a message to my poor countryman,” said a voice to me one morning +in broken English, as I was standing at the door of my _posada_, in the +royal street of Corunna. + +I looked round and perceived a man standing near me at the door of a shop +contiguous to the inn. He appeared to be about sixty-five, with a pale +face and remarkably red nose. He was dressed in a loose green +great-coat, in his mouth was a long clay pipe, in his hand a long painted +stick. + +“Who are you, and who is your countryman?” I demanded. “I do not know +you.” + +“I know you, however,” replied the man; “you purchased the first knife +that I ever sold in the market-place of N---.” {370a} + +_Myself_.—Ah, I remember you now, Luigi Piozzi {370b}; and well do I +remember also how, when a boy, twenty years ago, I used to repair to your +stall, and listen to you and your countrymen discoursing in Milanese. + +_Luigi_.—Ah, those were happy times to me. Oh, how they rushed back on +my remembrance when I saw you ride up to the door of the _posada_! I +instantly went in, closed my shop, lay down upon my bed and wept. + +_Myself_.—I see no reason why you should so much regret those times. I +knew you formerly in England as an itinerant pedlar, and occasionally as +master of a stall in the market-place of a country town. I now find you +in a seaport of Spain, the proprietor, seemingly, of a considerable shop. +I cannot see why you should regret the difference. + +_Luigi_ (dashing his pipe on the ground).—Regret the difference! Do you +know one thing? England is the heaven of the Piedmontese and Milanese, +and especially those of Como. We never lie down to rest but we dream of +it, whether we are in our own country or in a foreign land, as I am now. +Regret the difference, _Giorgio_! Do I hear such words from your lips, +and you an Englishman? I would rather be the poorest tramper on the +roads of England, than lord of all within ten leagues of the shore of the +lake of Como, and much the same say all my countrymen who have visited +England, wherever they now be. Regret the difference! I have ten +letters from as many countrymen in America, who say they are rich and +thriving, and principal men and merchants; but every night, when their +heads are reposing on their pillows, their souls _auslandra_, hurrying +away to England, and its green lanes and farmyards. And there they are +with their boxes on the ground, displaying their looking-glasses and +other goods to the hones, rustics and their dames and their daughters, +and selling away and chaffering and laughing just as of old. And there +they are again at nightfall in the hedge alehouses, eating their toasted +cheese and their bread, and drinking the Suffolk ale, and listening to +the roaring song and merry jests of the labourers. Now, if they regret +England so who are in America, which they own to be a happy country, and +good for those of Piedmont and of Como, how much more must I regret it, +when, after the lapse of so many years, I find myself in Spain, in this +frightful town of Corunna, driving a ruinous trade, and where months pass +by without my seeing a single English face, or hearing a word of the +blessed English tongue! + +_Myself_.—With such a predilection for England, what could have induced +you to leave it and come to Spain? + +_Luigi_.—I will tell you. About sixteen years ago a universal desire +seized our people in England to become something more than they had +hitherto been, pedlars and trampers; they wished, moreover—for mankind +are never satisfied—to see other countries: so the greater part forsook +England. Where formerly there had been ten, at present scarcely lingers +one. Almost all went to America, which, as I told you before, is a happy +country, and specially good for us men of Como. Well, all my comrades +and relations passed over the sea to the West. I too was bent on +travelling, but whither? Instead of going towards the West with the +rest, to a country where they have all thriven, I must needs come by +myself to this land of Spain; a country in which no foreigner settles +without dying of a broken heart sooner or later. I had an idea in my +head that I could make a fortune at once, by bringing a cargo of common +English goods, like those which I had been in the habit of selling +amongst the villagers of England. So I freighted half a ship with such +goods, for I had been successful in England in my little speculations, +and I arrived at Corunna. Here at once my vexations began: +disappointment followed disappointment. It was with the utmost +difficulty that I could obtain permission to land my goods, and this only +at a considerable sacrifice in bribes and the like; and when I had +established myself here, I found that the place was one of no trade, and +that my goods went off very slowly, and scarcely at prime cost. I wished +to remove to another place, but was informed that, in that case, I must +leave my goods behind, unless I offered fresh bribes, which would have +ruined me; and in this way I have gone on for fourteen years, selling +scarcely enough to pay for my shop and to support myself. And so I shall +doubtless continue till I die, or my goods are exhausted. In an evil day +I left England and came to Spain. + +_Myself_.—Did you not say that you had a countryman at St. James? + +_Luigi_.—Yes, a poor honest fellow who, like myself, by some strange +chance found his way to Galicia. I sometimes contrive to send him a few +goods, which he sells at St. James at a greater profit than I can here. +He is a happy fellow, for he has never been in England, and knows not the +difference between the two countries. Oh, the green English hedgerows! +and the alehouses! and, what is much more, the fair dealing and security. +I have travelled all over England and never met with ill usage, except +once down in the north amongst the Papists, upon my telling them to leave +all their mummeries and go to the parish church as I did, and as all my +countrymen in England did; for know one thing, _Signor Giorgio_, not one +of us who have lived in England, whether Piedmontese or men of Como, but +wished well to the Protestant religion, if he had not actually become a +member of it. + +_Myself_.—What do you propose to do at present, Luigi? What are your +prospects? + +_Luigi_.—My prospects are a blank, _Giorgio_; my prospects are a blank. +I propose nothing but to die in Corunna, perhaps in the hospital, if they +will admit me. Years ago I thought of fleeing, even if I left all behind +me, and either returning to England, or betaking myself to America; but +it is too late now, _Giorgio_, it is too late. When I first lost all +hope I took to drinking, to which I was never before inclined, and I am +now what I suppose you see. + +“There is hope in the Gospel,” said I, “even for you. I will send you +one.” + +There is a small battery of the old town which fronts the east, and whose +wall is washed by the waters of the bay. It is a sweet spot, and the +prospect which opens from it is extensive. The battery itself may be +about eighty yards square; some young trees are springing up about it, +and it is rather a favourite resort of the people of Corunna. + +In the centre of this battery stands the tomb of Moore, built by the +chivalrous French, in commemoration of the fall of their heroic +antagonist. It is oblong, and surmounted by a slab, and on either side +bears one of the simple and sublime epitaphs for which our rivals are +celebrated, and which stand in such powerful contrast with the bloated +and bombastic inscriptions which deform the walls of Westminster Abbey:— + + “JOHN MOORE, + LEADER OF THE ENGLISH ARMIES, + SLAIN IN BATTLE, + 1809.” + +The tomb itself is of marble, and around it is a quadrangular wall, +breast-high, of rough Gallegan granite; close to each corner rises from +the earth the breech of an immense brass cannon, intended to keep the +wall compact and close. These outer erections are, however, not the work +of the French, but of the English government. + +Yes, there lies the hero, almost within sight of the glorious hill where +he turned upon his pursuers like a lion at bay and terminated his career. +Many acquire immortality without seeking it, and die before its first ray +has gilded their name; of these was Moore. The harassed general, flying +through Castile with his dispirited troops before a fierce and terrible +enemy, little dreamed that he was on the point of attaining that for +which many a better, greater, though certainly not braver man, had sighed +in vain. His very misfortunes were the means which secured him immortal +fame; his disastrous route, bloody death, and finally his tomb on a +foreign strand, far from kin and friends. There is scarcely a Spaniard +but has heard of this tomb, and speaks of it with a strange kind of awe. +Immense treasures are said to have been buried with the heretic general, +though for what purpose no one pretends to guess. The demons of the +clouds, if we may trust the Gallegans, followed the English in their +flight, and assailed them with water-spouts as they toiled up the steep +winding paths of Fuencebadon, whilst legends the most wild are related of +the manner in which the stout soldier fell. Yes, even in Spain, +immortality has already crowned the head of Moore;—Spain, the land of +oblivion, where the Guadalete, the ancient Lethe, {375} flows. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +Compostella—Rey Romero—The Treasure-seeker—Hopeful Project—The Church of +Refuge—Hidden Riches—The Canon—Spirit of Localism—The Leper—Bones of +Saint James. + +At the commencement of August I found myself at Saint James of +Compostella. To this place I travelled from Corunna with the courier or +weekly post, who was escorted by a strong party of soldiers, in +consequence of the distracted state of the country, which was overrun +with banditti. From Corunna to Saint James the distance is but ten +leagues; the journey, however, endured for a day and a half. It was a +pleasant one, through a most beautiful country, with a rich variety of +hill and dale; the road was in many places shaded with various kinds of +trees clad in most luxuriant foliage. Hundreds of travellers, both on +foot and on horseback, availed themselves of the security which the +escort afforded: the dread of banditti was strong. During the journey +two or three alarms were given; we, however, reached Saint James without +having been attacked. + +Saint James stands on a pleasant level amidst mountains: the most +extraordinary of these is a conical hill, called the Pico Sacro, or +Sacred Peak, connected with which are many wonderful legends. A +beautiful old town is Saint James, containing about twenty thousand +inhabitants. Time has been when, with the single exception of Rome, it +was the most celebrated resort of pilgrims in the world; its cathedral +being said to contain the bones of Saint James the elder, the child of +the thunder, {378} who, according to the legend of the Romish church, +first preached the Gospel in Spain. Its glory, however, as a place of +pilgrimage, is rapidly passing away. + +The cathedral, though a work of various periods, and exhibiting various +styles of architecture, is a majestic venerable pile, in every respect +calculated to excite awe and admiration; indeed, it is almost impossible +to walk its long dusk aisles, and hear the solemn music and the noble +chanting, and inhale the incense of the mighty censers, which are at +times swung so high by machinery as to smite the vaulted roof, whilst +gigantic tapers glitter here and there amongst the gloom, from the shrine +of many a saint, before which the worshippers are kneeling, breathing +forth their prayers and petitions for help, love, and mercy, and +entertain a doubt that we are treading the floor of a house where God +delighteth to dwell. Yet the Lord is distant from that house; He hears +not, He sees not, or if He do, it is with anger. What availeth that +solemn music, that noble chanting, that incense of sweet savour? What +availeth kneeling before that grand altar of silver, surmounted by that +figure with its silver hat and breast-plate, the emblem of one who, +though an apostle and confessor, was at best an unprofitable servant? +What availeth hoping for remission of sin by trusting in the merits of +one who possessed none, or by paying homage to others who were born and +nurtured in sin, and who alone, by the exercise of a lively faith granted +from above, could hope to preserve themselves from the wrath of the +Almighty? + +Rise from your knees, ye children of Compostella, or, if ye bend, let it +be to the Almighty alone, and no longer on the eve of your patron’s day +address him in the following strain, however sublime it may sound:— + + “Thou shield of that faith which in Spain we revere, + Thou scourge of each foeman who dares to draw near; + Whom the Son of that God who the elements tames, + Called child of the thunder, immortal Saint James! + + “From the blessed asylum of glory intense, + Upon us thy sovereign influence dispense; + And list to the praises our gratitude aims + To offer up worthily, mighty Saint James! + + “To thee fervent thanks Spain shall ever outpour; + In thy name though she glory, she glories yet more + In thy thrice hallowed corse, which the sanctuary claims + Of high Compostella, O blessed Saint James! + + “When heathen impiety, loathsome and dread, + With a chaos of darkness our Spain overspread, + Thou wast the first light which dispelled with its flames + The hell-born obscurity, glorious Saint James! + + “And when terrible wars had nigh wasted our force, + All bright ’midst the battle we saw thee on horse, + Fierce scattering the hosts, whom their fury proclaims + To be warriors of Islam, victorious Saint James! + + “Beneath thy direction, stretched prone at thy feet, + With hearts low and humble, this day we entreat + Thou wilt strengthen the hope which enlivens our frames, + The hope of thy favour and presence, Saint James. + + “Then praise to the Son and the Father above, + And to that Holy Spirit which springs from their love; + To that bright emanation whose vividness shames + The sun’s burst of splendour, and praise to Saint James.” + +At Saint James I met with a kind and cordial coadjutor in my biblical +labours in the bookseller of the place, Rey Romero, a man of about sixty. +This excellent individual, who was both wealthy and respected, took up +the matter with an enthusiasm which doubtless emanated from on high, +losing no opportunity of recommending my book to those who entered his +shop, which was in the Azabacheria, {380} and was a very splendid and +commodious establishment. In many instances, when the peasants of the +neighbourhood came with an intention of purchasing some of the foolish +popular story-books of Spain, he persuaded them to carry home Testaments +instead, assuring them that the sacred volume was a better, more +instructive, and even far more entertaining book than those they came in +quest of. He speedily conceived a great fancy for me, and regularly came +to visit me every evening at my _posada_, and accompanied me in my walks +about the town and the environs. He was a man of considerable +information, and though of much simplicity, possessed a kind of +good-natured humour which was frequently highly diverting. + +I was walking late one night alone in the _alameda_ of Saint James, +considering in what direction I should next bend my course, for I had +been already ten days in this place; the moon was shining gloriously, and +illumined every object around to a considerable distance. The _alameda_ +was quite deserted; everybody, with the exception of myself, having for +some time retired. I sat down on a bench and continued my reflections, +which were suddenly interrupted by a heavy stumping sound. Turning my +eyes in the direction from which it proceeded, I perceived what at first +appeared a shapeless bulk slowly advancing: nearer and nearer it drew, +and I could now distinguish the outline of a man dressed in coarse brown +garments, a kind of Andalusian hat, and using as a staff the long peeled +branch of a tree. He had now arrived opposite the bench where I was +seated, when, stopping, he took off his hat and demanded charity in +uncouth tones and in a strange jargon, which had some resemblance to the +Catalan. The moon shone on grey locks and on a ruddy weather-beaten +countenance which I at once recognized. “Benedict Mol,” said I, “is it +possible that I see you at Compostella?” + +“_Och_, _mein Gott_, _es ist der Herr_!” {382a} replied Benedict. +“_Och_, what good fortune, that the Herr is the first person I meet at +Compostella!” + +_Myself_.—I can scarcely believe my eyes. Do you mean to say that you +have just arrived at this place? + +_Benedict_.—Ow yes, I am this moment arrived. I have walked all the long +way from Madrid. + +_Myself_.—What motive could possibly bring you such a distance? + +_Benedict_.—Ow, I am come for the _Schatz_—the treasure. I told you at +Madrid that I was coming; and now I have met you here, I have no doubt +that I shall find it, the _Schatz_. + +_Myself_.—In what manner did you support yourself by the way? + +_Benedict_.—Ow, I begged, I bettled, {382b} and so contrived to pick up +some _cuartos_; and when I reached Toro, I worked at my trade of +soap-making for a time, till the people said I knew nothing about it, and +drove me out of the town. So I went on and begged and bettled till I +arrived at Orense, which is in this country of Galicia. Ow, I do not +like this country of Galicia at all. + +_Myself_.—Why not? + +_Benedict_.—Why! because here they all beg and bettle, and have scarce +anything for themselves, much less for me, whom they know to be a foreign +man. Oh, the misery of Galicia! When I arrive at night at one of their +pigsties, which they call _posadas_, and ask for bread to eat in the name +of God, and straw to lie down in, they curse me, and say there is neither +bread nor straw in Galicia: and sure enough, since I have been here I +have seen neither, only something that they call _broa_, and a kind of +reedy rubbish with which they litter the horses: all my bones are sore +since I entered Galicia. + +_Myself_.—And yet you have come to this country, which you call so +miserable, in search of treasure? + +_Benedict_.—Ow _yaw_, but the _Schatz_ is buried; it is not above ground; +there is no money above ground in Galicia. I must dig it up; and when I +have dug it up I will purchase a coach with six mules, and ride out of +Galicia to Lucerne; and if the _Herr_ pleases to go with me, he shall be +welcome to go with me and the Schatz. + +_Myself_.—I am afraid that you have come on a desperate errand. What do +you propose to do? Have you any money? + +_Benedict_.—Not a _cuarto_; but I do not care now I have arrived at St. +James. The _Schatz_ is nigh; and I have, moreover, seen you, which is a +good sign; it tells me that the _Schatz_ is still here. I shall go to +the best _posada_ in the place, and live like a duke till I have an +opportunity of digging up the _Schatz_, when I will pay all scores. + +“Do nothing of the kind,” I replied; “find out some place in which to +sleep, and endeavour to seek some employment. In the mean time, here is +a trifle with which to support yourself; but as for the treasure which +you have come to seek, I believe it only exists in your own imagination.” +I gave him a dollar and departed. + +I have never enjoyed more charming walks than in the neighbourhood of +Saint James. In these I was almost invariably accompanied by my friend +the good old bookseller. The streams are numerous, and along their +wooded banks we were in the habit of straying and enjoying the delicious +summer evenings of this part of Spain. Religion generally formed the +topic of our conversation, but we not unfrequently talked of the foreign +lands which I had visited, and at other times of matters which related +particularly to my companion. “We booksellers of Spain,” said he, “are +all liberals; we are no friends to the monkish system. How indeed should +we be friends to it? It fosters darkness, whilst we live by +disseminating light. We love our profession, and have all more or less +suffered for it; many of us, in the times of terror, were hanged for +selling an innocent translation from the French or English. Shortly +after the Constitution was put down by Angoulême and the French bayonets, +{384} I was obliged to flee from Saint James and take refuge in the +wildest part of Galicia, near Corcuvion. Had I not possessed good +friends, I should not have been alive now; as it was, it cost me a +considerable sum of money to arrange matters. Whilst I was away, my shop +was in charge of the ecclesiastical officers. They frequently told my +wife that I ought to be burnt for the books which I had sold. Thanks be +to God, those times are past, and I hope they will never return.” + +Once, as we were walking through the streets of Saint James, he stopped +before a church and looked at it attentively. As there was nothing +remarkable in the appearance of this edifice, I asked him what motive he +had for taking such notice of it. “In the days of the friars,” said he, +“this church was one of refuge, to which if the worst criminals escaped, +they were safe. All were protected there save the _negros_, as they +called us liberals.” “Even murderers, I suppose?” said I. “Murderers!” +he answered, “far worse criminals than they. By-the-by, I have heard +that you English entertain the utmost abhorrence of murder. Do you in +reality consider it a crime of very great magnitude?” “How should we +not?” I replied. “For every other crime some reparation can be made; but +if we take away life, we take away all. A ray of hope with respect to +this world may occasionally enliven the bosom of any other criminal, but +how can the murderer hope?” “The friars were of another way of +thinking,” replied the old man; “they always looked upon murder as a +_friolera_; but not so the crime of marrying your first cousin without +dispensation, for which, if we believe them, there is scarcely any +atonement either in this world or the next.” + +Two or three days after this, as we were seated in my apartment in the +_posada_, engaged in conversation, the door was opened by Antonio, who, +with a smile on his countenance, said that there was a foreign gentleman +below who desired to speak with me. “Show him up,” I replied; whereupon +almost instantly appeared Benedict Mol. + +“This is a most extraordinary person,” said I to the bookseller. “You +Galicians, in general, leave your country in quest of money; he, on the +contrary, is come hither to find some.” + +_Rey Romero_.—And he is right. Galicia is by nature the richest province +in Spain, but the inhabitants are very stupid, and know not how to turn +the blessings which surround them to any account; but as a proof of what +may be made out of Galicia, see how rich the Catalans become who have +settled down here and formed establishments. There are riches all around +us, upon the earth and in the earth. + +_Benedict_.—Ow _yaw_, in the earth, that is what I say. There is much +more treasure below the earth than above it. + +_Myself_.—Since I last saw you, have you discovered the place in which +you say the treasure is deposited? + +_Benedict_.—Oh yes, I know all about it now. It is buried ’neath the +sacristy in the church of San Roque. + +_Myself_.—How have you been able to make that discovery? + +_Benedict_.—I will tell you. The day after my arrival I walked about all +the city in quest of the church, but could find none which at all +answered to the signs which my comrade who died in the hospital gave me. +I entered several, and looked about, but all in vain; I could not find +the place which I had in my mind’s eye. At last the people with whom I +lodge, and to whom I told my business, advised me to send for a _meiga_. + +_Myself_.—A _meiga_! {386} What is that? + +_Benedict_.—Ow! a _Haxweib_, a witch; the Gallegos call them so in their +jargon, of which I can scarcely understand a word. So I consented, and +they sent for the _meiga_. Och! what a _Weib_ is that _meiga_! I never +saw such a woman; she is as large as myself, and has a face as round and +red as the sun. She asked me a great many questions in her Gallegan; and +when I had told her all she wanted to know, she pulled out a pack of +cards and laid them on the table in a particular manner, and then she +said that the treasure was in the church of San Roque; and sure enough, +when I went to that church, it answered in every respect to the signs of +my comrade who died in the hospital. Oh, she is a powerful _Hax_, that +_meiga_; she is well known in the neighbourhood, and has done much harm +to the cattle. I gave her half the dollar I had from you for her +trouble. + +_Myself_.—Then you acted like a simpleton; she has grossly deceived you. +But even suppose that the treasure is really deposited in the church you +mention, it is not probable that you will be permitted to remove the +floor of the sacristy to search for it. + +_Benedict_.—Ow, the matter is already well advanced. Yesterday I went to +one of the canons to confess myself and to receive absolution and +benediction; not that I regard these things much, but I thought this +would be the best means of broaching the matter, so I confessed myself, +and then I spoke of my travels to the canon, and at last I told him of +the treasure, and proposed that if he assisted me we should share it +between us. Ow, I wish you had seen him; he entered at once into the +affair, and said that it might turn out a very profitable speculation: +and he shook me by the hand, and said that I was an honest Swiss and a +good Catholic. And I then proposed that he should take me into his house +and keep me there till we had an opportunity of digging up the treasure +together. This he refused to do. + +_Rey Romero_.—Of that I have no doubt: trust one of our canons for not +committing himself so far until he sees very good reason. These tales of +treasure are at present rather too stale: we have heard of them ever +since the time of the Moors. + +_Benedict_.—He advised me to go to the Captain-General and obtain +permission to make excavations, in which case he promised to assist me to +the utmost of his power. + +Thereupon the Swiss departed, and I neither saw nor heard anything +further of him during the time that I continued at Saint James. + +The bookseller was never weary of showing me about his native town, of +which he was enthusiastically fond. Indeed, I have never seen the spirit +of localism, which is so prevalent throughout Spain, more strong than at +Saint James. If their town did but flourish, the Santiagans seemed to +care but little if all others in Galicia perished. Their antipathy to +the town of Corunna was unbounded, and this feeling had of late been not +a little increased from the circumstance that the seat of the provincial +government had been removed from Saint James to Corunna. Whether this +change was advisable or not, it is not for me, who am a foreigner, to +say; my private opinion, however, is by no means favourable to the +alteration. Saint James is one of the most central towns in Galicia, +with large and populous communities on every side of it, whereas Corunna +stands in a corner, at a considerable distance from the rest. “It is a +pity that the _vecinos_ of Corunna cannot contrive to steal away from us +our cathedral, even as they have done our government,” said a Santiagan; +“then, indeed, they would be able to cut some figure. As it is, they +have not a church fit to say mass in.” “A great pity, too, that they +cannot remove our hospital,” would another exclaim; “as it is, they are +obliged to send us their sick poor wretches. I always think that the +sick of Corunna have more ill-favoured countenances than those from other +places; but what good can come from Corunna?” + +Accompanied by the bookseller, I visited this hospital, in which, +however, I did not remain long, the wretchedness and uncleanliness which +I observed speedily driving me away. Saint James, indeed, is the grand +lazar-house for all the rest of Galicia, which accounts for the +prodigious number of horrible objects to be seen in its streets, who have +for the most part arrived in the hope of procuring medical assistance, +which, from what I could learn, is very scantily and inefficiently +administered. Amongst these unhappy wretches I occasionally observed the +terrible leper, and instantly fled from him with a “God help thee,” as if +I had been a Jew of old. Galicia is the only province of Spain where +cases of leprosy are still frequent; a convincing proof this that the +disease is the result of foul feeding, and an inattention to cleanliness, +as the Gallegans, with regard to the comforts of life and civilized +habits, are confessedly far behind all the other natives of Spain. + +“Besides a general hospital, we have likewise a leper-house,” said the +bookseller. “Shall I show it you? We have everything at Saint James. +There is nothing lacking; the very leper finds an inn here.” “I have no +objection to your showing me the house,” I replied, “but it must be at a +distance, for enter it I will not.” Thereupon he conducted me down the +road which leads towards Padron {389} and Vigo, and pointing to two or +three huts, exclaimed, “That is our leper-house.” “It appears a +miserable place,” I replied. “What accommodation may there be for the +patients, and who attends to their wants?” “They are left to +themselves,” answered the bookseller, “and probably sometimes perish from +neglect: the place at one time was endowed, and had rents, which were +appropriated to its support, but even these have been sequestered during +the late troubles. At present, the least unclean of the lepers generally +takes his station by the road-side, and begs for the rest. See, there he +is now.” + +And sure enough the leper, in his shining scales, and half naked, was +seated beneath a ruined wall. We dropped money into the hat of the +unhappy being, and passed on. + +“A bad disorder that,” said my friend. “I confess that I, who have seen +so many of them, am by no means fond of the company of lepers. Indeed, I +wish that they would never enter my shop, as they occasionally do to beg. +Nothing is more infectious, as I have heard, than leprosy. There is one +very virulent species, however, which is particularly dreaded here—the +elephantine: those who die of it should, according to law, be burnt, and +their ashes scattered to the winds, for if the body of such a leper be +interred in the field of the dead, the disorder is forthwith communicated +to all the corses even below the earth. Such at least is our idea in +these parts. Law-suits are at present pending from the circumstance of +elephantides having been buried with the other dead. Sad is leprosy in +all its forms, but most so when elephantine.” + +“Talking of corses,” said I, “do you believe that the bones of Saint +James are veritably interred at Compostella?” + +“What can I say?” replied the old man; “you know as much of the matter as +myself. Beneath the high altar is a large stone slab or lid, which is +said to cover the mouth of a profound well, at the bottom of which it is +believed that the bones of the saint are interred; though why they should +be placed at the bottom of a well is a mystery which I cannot fathom. +One of the officers of the church told me that at one time he and another +kept watch in the church during the night, one of the chapels having +shortly before been broken open and a sacrilege committed. At the dead +of night, finding the time hang heavy on their hands, they took a crowbar +and removed the slab, and looked down into the abyss below; it was dark +as the grave; whereupon they affixed a weight to the end of a long rope, +and lowered it down. At a very great depth it seemed to strike against +something dull and solid, like lead: they supposed it might be a coffin; +perhaps it was, but whose? is the question.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + +Skippers of Padron—Caldas de los Reyes—Pontevedra—The Notary +Public—Insane Barber—An Introduction—Gallegan Language—Afternoon +Ride—Vigo—The Stranger—Jews of the Desert—Bay of Vigo—Sudden +Interruption—The Governor. + +After a stay of about a fortnight at Saint James, we again mounted our +horses and proceeded in the direction of Vigo. As we did not leave Saint +James till late in the afternoon, we travelled that day no farther than +Padron, a distance of only three leagues. This place is a small port, +situate at the extremity of a firth which communicates with the sea. It +is called, for brevity’s sake, Padron, but its proper appellation is +_Villa del Padron_, or the town of the patron saint; it having been, +according to the legend, the principal residence of Saint James during +his stay in Galicia. By the Romans it was termed Iria Flavia. It is a +flourishing little town, and carries on rather an extensive commerce, +some of its tiny barks occasionally finding their way across the Bay of +Biscay, and even so far as the Thames and London. + +There is a curious anecdote connected with the skippers of Padron, which +can scarcely be considered as out of place here, as it relates to the +circulation of the Scriptures. I was one day in the shop of my friend +the bookseller at Saint James, when a stout good-humoured-looking priest +entered. He took up one of my Testaments, and forthwith burst into a +violent fit of laughter. “What is the matter?” demanded the bookseller. +“The sight of this book reminds me of a circumstance,” replied the other. +“About twenty years ago, when the English first took it into their heads +to be very zealous in converting us Spaniards to their own way of +thinking, they distributed a great number of books of this kind amongst +the Spaniards who chanced to be in London; some of them fell into the +hands of certain skippers of Padron, and these good folk, on their return +to Galicia, were observed to have become on a sudden exceedingly +opinionated and fond of dispute. It was scarcely possible to make an +assertion in their hearing without receiving a flat contradiction, +especially when religious subjects were brought on the carpet. {393} ‘It +is false,’ they would say; ‘Saint Paul, in such a chapter and in such a +verse, says exactly the contrary.’ ‘What can you know concerning what +Saint Paul or any other saint has written?’ the priests would ask them. +‘Much more than you think,’ they replied; ‘we are no longer to be kept in +darkness and ignorance respecting these matters:’ and then they would +produce their books and read paragraphs, making such comments that every +person was scandalized; they cared nothing about the Pope, and even spoke +with irreverence of the bones of Saint James. However, the matter was +soon bruited about, and a commission was despatched from our see to +collect the books and burn them. This was effected, and the skippers +were either punished or reprimanded, since which I have heard nothing +more of them. I could not forbear laughing when I saw these books; they +instantly brought to my mind the skippers of Padron and their religious +disputations.” + +Our next day’s journey brought us to Pontevedra. As there was no talk of +robbers in these parts, we travelled without any escort and alone. The +road was beautiful and picturesque, though somewhat solitary, especially +after we had left behind us the small town of Caldas. There is more than +one place of this name in Spain: the one of which I am speaking is +distinguished from the rest by being called Caldas de los Reyes, {394} or +the warm baths of the kings. It will not be amiss to observe that the +Spanish _Caldas_ is synonymous with the Moorish _Alhama_, a word of +frequent occurrence both in Spanish and African topography. Caldas +seemed by no means undeserving of its name. It stands on a confluence of +springs, and the place when we arrived was crowded with people who had +come to enjoy the benefit of the waters. In the course of my travels I +have observed that wherever warm springs are found, vestiges of volcanoes +are sure to be nigh; the smooth black precipice, the divided mountain, or +huge rocks standing by themselves on the plain or on the hillside, as if +Titans had been playing at bowls. This last feature occurs near Caldas +de los Reyes, the side of the mountain which overhangs it in the +direction of the south being covered with immense granite stones, +apparently at some ancient period eructed from the bowels of the earth. +From Caldas to Pontevedra the route was hilly and fatiguing, the heat was +intense, and those clouds of flies, which constitute one of the pests of +Galicia, annoyed our horses to such a degree that we were obliged to cut +down branches from the trees to protect their heads and necks from the +tormenting stings of these bloodthirsty insects. Whilst travelling in +Galicia at this period of the year on horseback, it is always advisable +to carry a fine net for the protection of the animal, a sure and +commodious means of defence, which appears, however, to be utterly +unknown in Galicia, where, perhaps, it is more wanted than in any other +part of the world. + +Pontevedra, upon the whole, is certainly entitled to the appellation of a +magnificent town, some of its public edifices, especially the convents, +being such as are nowhere to be found but in Spain and Italy. It is +surrounded by a wall of hewn stone, and stands at the end of a creek into +which the river Levroz disembogues. It is said to have been founded by a +colony of Greeks, whose captain was no less a personage than Teucer the +Telamonian. It was in former times a place of considerable commerce; and +near its port are to be seen the ruins of a _farol_, or lighthouse, said +to be of great antiquity. The port, however, is at a considerable +distance from the town, and is shallow and incommodious. The whole +country in the neighbourhood of Pontevedra is inconceivably delicious, +abounding with fruits of every description, especially grapes, which in +the proper season are seen hanging from the _parras_ {395} in luscious +luxuriance. An old Andalusian author has said that it produces as many +orange and citron trees as the neighbourhood of Cordova. Its oranges +are, however, by no means good, and cannot compete with those of +Andalusia. The Pontevedrans boast that their land produces two crops +every year, and that whilst they are gathering in one they may be seen +ploughing and sowing another. They may well be proud of their country, +which is certainly a highly favoured spot. + +The town itself is in a state of great decay, and, notwithstanding the +magnificence of its public edifices, we found more than the usual amount +of Galician filth and misery. The _posada_ was one of the most wretched +description, and to mend the matter, the hostess was a most intolerable +scold and shrew. Antonio having found fault with the quality of some +provision which she produced, she cursed him most immoderately in the +country language, which was the only one she spoke, and threatened, if he +attempted to breed any disturbance in her house, to turn the horses, +himself, and his master forthwith out of doors. Socrates himself, +however, could not have conducted himself on this occasion with greater +forbearance than Antonio, who shrugged his shoulders, muttered something +in Greek, and then was silent. + +“Where does the notary public live?” I demanded. Now the notary public +vended books, and to this personage I was recommended by my friend at +Saint James. A boy conducted me to the house of _Señor_ Garcia, for such +was his name. I found him a brisk, active, talkative little man of +forty. He undertook with great alacrity the sale of my Testaments, and +in a twinkling sold two to a client who was waiting in the office, and +appeared to be from the country. He was an enthusiastic patriot, but of +course in a local sense, for he cared for no other country than +Pontevedra. + +“Those fellows of Vigo,” said he, “say their town is a better one than +ours, and that it is more deserving to be the capital of this part of +Galicia. Did you ever hear such folly? I tell you what, friend, I +should not care if Vigo were burnt, and all the fools and rascals within +it. Would you ever think of comparing Vigo with Pontevedra?” + +“I don’t know,” I replied; “I have never been at Vigo, but I have heard +say that the bay of Vigo is the finest in the world.” + +“Bay! my good sir; bay. Yes, the rascals have a bay, and it is that bay +of theirs which has robbed us of all our commerce. But what needs the +capital of a district with a bay? It is public edifices that it wants, +where the provincial deputies can meet to transact their business; now, +so far from there being a commodious public edifice, there is not a +decent house in all Vigo. Bay! yes, they have a bay, but have they water +fit to drink? Have they a fountain? Yes, they have, and the water is so +brackish that it would burst the stomach of a horse. I hope, my dear +sir, that you have not come all this distance to take the part of such a +gang of pirates as those of Vigo?” + +“I am not come to take their part,” I replied; “indeed, I was not aware +that they wanted my assistance in this dispute. I am merely carrying to +them the New Testament, of which they evidently stand in much need, if +they are such knaves and scoundrels as you represent them.” + +“Represent them, my dear sir! Does not the matter speak for itself? Do +they not say that their town is better than ours, more fit to be the +capital of a district? _que disparate_! _que briboneria_!” {397} + +“Is there a bookseller’s shop at Vigo?” I inquired. + +“There was one,” he replied, “kept by an insane barber. I am glad, for +your sake, that it is broken up, and the fellow vanished. He would have +played you one of two tricks; he would either have cut your throat with +his razor, under pretence of shaving you, or have taken your books and +never have accounted to you for the proceeds. Bay! I never could see +what right such an owl’s nest as Vigo has to a bay!” + +No person could exhibit greater kindness to another than did the notary +public to myself, as soon as I had convinced him that I had no intention +of siding with the men of Vigo against Pontevedra. It was now six +o’clock in the evening, and he forthwith conducted me to a confectioner’s +shop, where he treated me with an iced cream and a small cup of +chocolate. From hence we walked about the city, the notary showing the +various edifices, especially the Convent of the Jesuits. “See that +front,” said he; “what do you think of it?” + +I expressed to him the admiration which I really felt, and by so doing +entirely won the good notary’s heart. “I suppose there is nothing like +that at Vigo?” said I. He looked at me for a moment, winked, gave a +short triumphant chuckle, and then proceeded on his way, walking at a +tremendous rate. The _Señor_ Garcia was dressed in all respects as an +English notary might be; he wore a white hat, brown frock coat, drab +breeches buttoned at the knees, white stockings, and well blacked shoes. +But I never saw an English notary walk so fast: it could scarcely be +called walking; it seemed more like a succession of galvanic leaps and +bounds. I found it impossible to keep up with him. “Where are you +conducting me?” I at last demanded, quite breathless. + +“To the house of the cleverest man in Spain,” he replied, “to whom I +intend to introduce you; for you must not think that Pontevedra has +nothing to boast of but its splendid edifices and its beautiful country; +it produces more illustrious minds than any other town in Spain. Did you +ever hear of the grand Tamerlane?” + +“Oh yes,” said I; “but he did not come from Pontevedra or its +neighbourhood: he came from the steppes of Tartary, near the river Oxus.” + +“I know he did,” replied the notary, “but what I mean to say is, that +when Enrique the Third wanted an ambassador to send to that African, the +only man he could find suited to the enterprise was a knight of +Pontevedra, Don --- by name. {399} Let the men of Vigo contradict that +fact if they can.” + +We entered a large portal and ascended a splendid staircase, at the top +of which the notary knocked at a small door. “Who is the gentleman to +whom you are about to introduce me?” demanded I. + +“It is the Advocate ---,” replied Garcia; “he is the cleverest man in +Spain, and understands all languages and sciences.” + +We were admitted by a respectable-looking female, to all appearance a +housekeeper, who, on being questioned, informed us that the Advocate was +at home, and forthwith conducted us to an immense room, or rather +library, the walls being covered with books, except in two or three +places where hung some fine pictures of the ancient Spanish school. +There was a rich mellow light in the apartment, streaming through a +window of stained glass, which looked to the west. Behind the table sat +the Advocate, on whom I looked with no little interest. His forehead was +high and wrinkled, and there was much gravity on his features, which were +quite Spanish. He was dressed in a long robe, and might be about sixty. +He sat reading behind a large table, and on our entrance half raised +himself, and bowed slightly. + +The notary public saluted him most profoundly, and, in an under-voice, +hoped that he might be permitted to introduce a friend of his, an English +gentleman, who was travelling through Galicia. + +“I am very glad to see him,” said the Advocate, “but I hope he speaks +Castilian, else we can have but little communication; for, although I can +read both French and Latin, I cannot speak them.” + +“He speaks, sir, almost as good Spanish,” said the notary, “as a native +of Pontevedra.” + +“The natives of Pontevedra,” I replied, “appear to be better versed in +Gallegan than in Castilian, for the greater part of the conversation +which I hear in the streets is carried on in the former dialect.” + +“The last gentleman whom my friend Garcia introduced to me,” said the +Advocate, “was a Portuguese, who spoke little or no Spanish. It is said +that the Gallegan and Portuguese are very similar, but when we attempted +to converse in the two languages, we found it impossible. I understood +little of what he said, whilst my Gallegan was quite unintelligible to +him. Can you understand our country dialect?” he continued. + +“Very little of it,” I replied; “which I believe chiefly proceeds from +the peculiar accent and uncouth enunciation of the Gallegans, for their +language is certainly almost entirely composed of Spanish and Portuguese +words.” + +“So you are an Englishman,” said the Advocate. “Your countrymen have +committed much damage in times past in these regions, if we may trust our +histories.” + +“Yes,” said I, “they sank your galleons, and burnt your finest men-of-war +in Vigo Bay, and, under old Cobham, {401a} levied a contribution of forty +thousand pounds sterling on this very town of Pontevedra.” + +“Any foreign power,” interrupted the notary public, “has a clear right to +attack Vigo, but I cannot conceive what plea your countrymen could urge +for distressing Pontevedra, which is a respectable town, and could never +have offended them.” + +“_Señor_ Cavalier,” said the Advocate, “I will show you my library. Here +is a curious work, a collection of poems, written mostly in Gallegan, by +the curate of Fruime. {401b} He is our national poet, and we are very +proud of him.” + +We stopped upwards of an hour with the Advocate, whose conversation, if +it did not convince me that he was the cleverest man in Spain, was, upon +the whole, highly interesting, and who certainly possessed an extensive +store of general information, though he was by no means the profound +philologist which the notary had represented him to be. + +When I was about to depart from Pontevedra in the afternoon of the next +day, the _Señor_ Garcia stood by the side of my horse, and, having +embraced me, thrust a small pamphlet into my hand. “This book,” said he, +“contains a description of Pontevedra. Wherever you go, speak well of +Pontevedra.” I nodded. “Stay,” said he, “my dear friend, I have heard +of your society, and will do my best to further its views. I am quite +disinterested, but if at any future time you should have an opportunity +of speaking in print of _Señor_ Garcia, the notary public of +Pontevedra—you understand me—I wish you would do so.” + +“I will,” said I. + +It was a pleasant afternoon’s ride from Pontevedra to Vigo, the distance +being only four leagues. As we approached the latter town, the country +became exceedingly mountainous, though scarcely anything could exceed the +beauty of the surrounding scenery. The sides of the hills were for the +most part clothed with luxuriant forests, even to the very summits, +though occasionally a flinty and naked peak would present itself, rising +to the clouds. As the evening came on the route along which we advanced +became very gloomy, the hills and forests enwrapping it in deep shade. +It appeared, however, to be well frequented: numerous cars were creaking +along it, and both horsemen and pedestrians were continually passing us. +The villages were frequent. Vines, supported on _parras_, were growing, +if possible, in still greater abundance than in the neighbourhood of +Pontevedra. Life and activity seemed to pervade everything. The hum of +insects, the cheerful bark of dogs, the rude songs of Galicia, were +blended together in pleasant symphony. So delicious was my ride that I +almost regretted when we entered the gate of Vigo. + +The town occupies the lower part of a lofty hill, which, as it ascends, +becomes extremely steep and precipitous, and the top of which is crowned +with a strong fort or castle. It is a small compact place, surrounded +with low walls; the streets are narrow, steep, and winding, and in the +middle of the town is a small square. + +There is rather an extensive _faubourg_ extending along the shore of the +bay. We found an excellent _posada_, kept by a man and woman from the +Basque provinces, who were both civil and intelligent. The town seemed +to be crowded, and resounded with noise and merriment. The people were +making a wretched attempt at an illumination, in consequence of some +victory lately gained, or pretended to have been gained, over the forces +of the Pretender. Military uniforms were glancing about in every +direction. To increase the bustle, a troop of Portuguese players had +lately arrived from Oporto, and their first representation was to take +place this evening. “Is the play to be performed in Spanish?” I +demanded. “No,” was the reply; “and on that account every person is so +eager to go, which would not be the case if it were in a language which +they could understand.” + +On the morning of the next day I was seated at breakfast in a large +apartment which looked out upon the _Plaza Mayor_, or great square of the +good town of Vigo. The sun was shining very brilliantly, and all around +looked lively and gay. Presently a stranger entered, and, bowing +profoundly, stationed himself at the window, where he remained a +considerable time in silence. He was a man of very remarkable +appearance, of about thirty-five. His features were of perfect symmetry, +and I may almost say of perfect beauty. His hair was the darkest I had +ever seen, glossy and shining; his eyes large, black, and melancholy; but +that which most struck me was his complexion. It might be called olive, +it is true, but it was a livid olive. He was dressed in the very first +style of French fashion. Around his neck was a massive gold chain, while +upon his fingers were large rings, in one of which was set a magnificent +ruby. Who can that man be? thought I—Spaniard or Portuguese; perhaps a +Creole. I asked him an indifferent question in Spanish, to which he +forthwith replied in that language, but his accent convinced me that he +was neither Spaniard nor Portuguese. + +“I presume I am speaking to an Englishman, sir,” said he, in as good +English as it was possible for one not an Englishman to speak. + +_Myself_.—You know me to be an Englishman; but I should find some +difficulty in guessing to what country you belong. + +_Stranger_.—May I take a seat? + +_Myself_.—A singular question. Have you not as much right to sit in the +public apartment of an inn as myself? + +_Stranger_.—I am not certain of that. The people here are not in general +very gratified at seeing me seated by their side. + +_Myself_.—Perhaps owing to your political opinions, or to some crime +which it may have been your misfortune to commit. + +_Stranger_.—I have no political opinions, and I am not aware that I ever +committed any particular crime. I am hated for my country and my +religion. + +_Myself_.—Perhaps I am speaking to a Protestant, like myself? + +_Stranger_.—I am no Protestant. If I were, they would be cautious here +of showing their dislike, for I should then have a government and a +consul to protect me. I am a Jew—a Barbary Jew, a subject of +Abderrahman. + +_Myself_.—If that be the case, you can scarcely complain of being looked +upon with dislike in this country, since in Barbary the Jews are slaves. + +_Stranger_.—In most parts, I grant you, but not where I was born, which +was far up the country, near the deserts. There the Jews are free, and +are feared, and are as valiant men as the Moslems themselves; as able to +tame the steed, or to fire the gun. The Jews of our tribe are not +slaves, and I like not to be treated as a slave either by Christian or +Moor. + +_Myself_.—Your history must be a curious one; I would fain hear it. + +_Stranger_.—My history I shall tell to no one. I have travelled much, I +have been in commerce, and have thriven. I am at present established in +Portugal, but I love not the people of Catholic countries, and least of +all these of Spain. I have lately experienced the most shameful +injustice in the _Aduana_ of this town, and when I complained, they +laughed at me, and called me Jew. Wherever he turns, the Jew is reviled, +save in your country, and on that account my blood always warms when I +see an Englishman. You are a stranger here. Can I do aught for you? +You may command me. + +_Myself_.—I thank you heartily, but I am in need of no assistance. + +_Stranger_.—Have you any bills? I will accept them if you have. + +_Myself_.—I have no need of assistance; but you may do me a favour by +accepting of a book. + +_Stranger_.—I will receive it with thanks. I know what it is. What a +singular people! The same dress, the same look, the same book. Pelham +gave me one in Egypt. Farewell! Your Jesus was a good man, perhaps a +prophet; but . . . farewell! + +Well may the people of Pontevedra envy the natives of Vigo their bay, +with which, in many respects, none other in the world can compare. On +every side it is defended by steep and sublime hills, save on the part of +the west, where is the outlet to the Atlantic; but in the midst of this +outlet, up towers a huge rocky wall, or island, which breaks the swell, +and prevents the billows of the western sea from pouring through in full +violence. On either side of this island is a passage, so broad that +navies might pass through at all times in safety. The bay itself is +oblong, running far into the land, and so capacious that a thousand sail +of the line might ride in it uncrowded. The waters are dark, still, and +deep, without quicksands or shallows, so that the proudest man-of-war +might lie within a stone’s throw of the town ramparts without any fear of +injuring her keel. + +Of many a strange event, and of many a mighty preparation, has this bay +been the scene. It was here that the bulky dragons of the grand Armada +were mustered; and it was from hence that, fraught with the pomp, power, +and terror of Old Spain, the monster fleet, spreading its enormous sails +to the wind, and bent on the ruin of the Lutheran isle, proudly +steered;—that fleet, to build and man which half the forests of Galicia +had been felled, and all the mariners impressed from the thousand bays +and creeks of the stern Cantabrian shore. It was here that the united +flags of Holland and England triumphed over the pride of Spain and +France; when the burning timbers of exploded war-ships soared above the +tops of the Gallegan hills, and blazing galleons sank with their +treasure-chests whilst drifting in the direction of Sampayo. It was on +the shores of this bay that the English guards first emptied Spanish +_bodegas_, whilst the bombs of Cobham were crushing the roofs of the +castle of Castro, and the _vecinos_ of Pontevedra buried their doubloons +in cellars, and flying posts were conveying to Lugo and Orense the news +of the heretic invasion and the disaster of Vigo. All these events +occurred to my mind as I stood far up the hill, at a short distance from +the fort, surveying the bay. + +“What are you doing there, Cavalier?” roared several voices. “Stay, +_Carracho_! if you attempt to run we will shoot you!” I looked round and +saw three or four fellows in dirty uniforms, to all appearance soldiers, +just above me, on a winding path, which led up the hill. Their muskets +were pointed at me. “What am I doing? Nothing, as you see,” said I, +“save looking at the bay; and as for running, this is by no means ground +for a course.” “You are our prisoner,” said they, “and you must come +with us to the fort.” “I was just thinking of going there,” I replied, +“before you thus kindly invited me. The fort is the very spot I was +desirous of seeing.” I thereupon climbed up to the place where they +stood, when they instantly surrounded me, and with this escort I was +marched into the fort, which might have been a strong place in its time, +but was now rather ruinous. “You are suspected of being a spy,” said the +corporal, who walked in front. “Indeed?” said I. “Yes,” replied the +corporal, “and several spies have lately been taken and shot.” + +Upon one of the parapets of the fort stood a young man, dressed as a +subaltern officer, and to this personage I was introduced. “We have been +watching you this half-hour,” said he, “as you were taking observations.” +“Then you gave yourselves much useless trouble,” said I. “I am an +Englishman, and was merely looking at the bay. Have the kindness now to +show me the fort.” . . . + +After some conversation, he said, “I wish to be civil to people of your +nation; you may therefore consider yourself at liberty.” I bowed, made +my exit, and proceeded down the hill. Just before I entered the town, +however, the corporal, who had followed me unperceived, tapped me on the +shoulder. “You must go with me to the governor,” said he. “With all my +heart,” I replied. The governor was shaving when we were shown up to +him. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and held a razor in his hand. He +looked very ill-natured, which was perhaps owing to his being thus +interrupted in his toilet. He asked me two or three questions, and on +learning that I had a passport, and was the bearer of a letter to the +English consul, he told me that I was at liberty to depart. So I bowed +to the governor of the town, as I had done to the governor of the fort, +and making my exit, proceeded to my inn. + +At Vigo I accomplished but little in the way of distribution, and, after +a sojourn of a few days, I returned in the direction of Saint James. + + + + +APPENDIX. + + +THE JEWS IN LISBON. +_Chap. v. p._ 67. + + +In the early editions this chapter ended as follows:— + +I found them a vile, infamous rabble, about two hundred in number. With +a few exceptions, they consist of _escapados_ from the Barbary shore, +from Tetuan, from Tangier, but principally from Mogadore; fellows who +have fled to a foreign land from the punishment due to their misdeeds. +Their manner of life in Lisbon is worthy of such a goodly assemblage of +_amis réunis_. The generality of them pretend to work in gold and +silver, and keep small peddling shops; they, however, principally depend +for their livelihood on an extensive traffic in stolen goods which they +carry on. It is said that there is honour among thieves, but this is +certainly not the case with the Jews of Lisbon, for they are so greedy +and avaricious, that they are constantly quarrelling about their +ill-gotten gain, the result being that they frequently ruin each other. +Their mutual jealousy is truly extraordinary. If one, by cheating and +roguery, gains a _cruzado_ in the presence of another, the latter +instantly says, “I cry halves,” and if the first refuse he is instantly +threatened with an information. The manner in which they cheat each +other has, with all its infamy, occasionally something extremely droll +and ludicrous. I was one day in the shop of a _Swiri_, or Jew of +Mogadore, when a Jew from Gibraltar entered, with a Portuguese female, +who held in her hand a mantle, richly embroidered with gold. + +_Gibraltar Jew_ (speaking in broken Arabic).—Good day, O _Swiri_; God has +favoured me this day; here is a bargain by which we shall both gain. I +have bought this mantle of the woman almost for nothing, for it is +stolen; but I am poor, as you know, I have not a _cruzado_; pay her +therefore the price, that we may then forthwith sell the mantle and +divide the gain. + +_Swiri_.—Willingly, brother of Gibraltar; I will pay the woman for the +mantle; it does not appear a bad one. + +Thereupon he flung two _cruzados_ to the woman, who forthwith left the +shop. + +_Gibraltar Jew_.—Thanks, brother _Swiri_; this is very kind of you. Now +let us go and sell the mantle, the gold alone is well worth a _moidore_. +But I am poor, and have nothing to eat; give me, therefore, the half of +that sum and keep the mantle; I shall be content. + +_Swiri_.—May Allah blot out your name, you thief! What mean you by +asking me for money? I bought the mantle of the woman and paid for it. +I know nothing of you. Go out of my doors, dog of a Nazarene; if not, I +will pay you with a kick. + +The dispute was referred to one of the _sabios_, or priests; but the +_sabio_, who was also from Mogadore, at once took the part of the +_Swiri_, and decided that the other should have nothing. Whereupon the +Gibraltar Jew cursed the _sabio_, his father, mother, and all his family. +The _sabio_ replied, “I put you in _nduis_,”—a kind of purgatory or hell. +“I put you in seven _nduis_,” retorted the incensed Jew, over whom, +however, superstitious fear speedily prevailed; he faltered, became pale, +and dropping his voice, retreated, trembling in every limb. + +The Jews have two synagogues in Lisbon, both are small; one is, however, +tolerably well furnished, it has its reading-desk, and in the middle +there is a rather handsome chandelier; the other is little better than a +sty, filthy to a degree, without ornament of any kind. The congregation +of this last are thieves to a man; no Jew of the slightest respectability +ever enters it. + +How well do superstition and crime go hand in hand! These wretched +beings break the eternal commandments of their Maker without scruple; but +they will not partake of the beast of the uncloven foot, and the fish +which has no scales. They pay no regard to the denunciations of holy +prophets against the children of sin, but they quake at the sound of a +dark cabalistic word pronounced by one perhaps their equal or superior in +villainy; as if God would delegate the exercise of his power to the +workers of iniquity. + +I was one day sauntering along the _Caesodré_, when a Jew, with whom I +had previously exchanged a word or two, came up and addressed me. + +_Jew_.—The blessing of God upon you, brother; I know you to be a wise and +powerful man, and I have conceived much regard for you; it is on that +account that I wish to put you in the way of gaining much money. Come +with me, and I will conduct you to a place where there are forty chests +of tea. It is a _sereka_, and the thieves are willing to dispose of it +for a trifle; for there is search being made, and they are in much fear. +I can raise one-half of what they demand, do you supply the other, we +will then divide it, each shall go his own way and dispose of his +portion. + +_Myself_.—Wherefore, O son of Arbat, do you propose this to me, who am a +stranger? Surely you are mad. Have you not your own people about you +whom you know, and in whom you can confide? + +_Jew_.—It is because I know our people here that I do not confide in +them; we are in the _galoot_ of sin. Were I to confide in my brethren +there would be a dispute, and perhaps they would rob me, and few of them +have any money. Were I to apply to the _sabio_ he might consent, but +when I ask for my portion he would put me in _ndui_. You I do not fear; +you are good, and would do me no harm, unless I attempted to deceive you, +and that I dare not do, for I know you are powerful. Come with me, +master, for I wish to gain something, that I may return to Arbat, where I +have children. . . . + +Such are Jews in Lisbon. + + * * * * * + + END OF VOL. I. + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, + STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. + + + + +Footnotes + + +{0a} “Om Frands Gonzales, og Rodrik Cid, +End siunges i Sierra Murene!” + +_Krönike Riim_. By Severin Grundtvig. Copenhagen, 1829. + +{0b} See Burke’s _History of Spain_, vol. i. p. 182, and vol. ii. pp. +87–95, 105. + +{0c} He reigned July—September, 1506. + +{0d} Known as _los fueros_. See Duncan, _The English in Spain_, p. 163. + +{0e} Graydon was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, who, finding himself +unemployed at Gibraltar in 1835, undertook the distribution of the +Scriptures, and continued the work until 1840. + +{0f} William Harris Rule, a Wesleyan minister, was born at Penryn, +Cornwall, in November, 1802, educated at first for an artist, was called +to the ministry in 1826, and proceeded as a Wesleyan missionary to Malta, +making afterwards many voyages to the West Indies, until he was ordered +to Gibraltar, where he arrived in February, 1832. See Rule, _Mission to +Gibraltar and Spain_ (1844); _Recollections of my Life and Work_ (1886). + +{0g} Of Mr. Lyon I can learn nothing of any interest. + +{0h} Don Luis de Usoz y Rio was born at Madrid of noble parents in May, +1805. A pupil of the well-known Cardinal Mezzofanti, he was appointed, +while yet a very young man, to the Chair of Hebrew at Valladolid. In +1839 he made the acquaintance in England of Benjamin Wiffen, the Quaker, +so well known in connexion with Protestant literature and the slavery +question in Spain; and after helping Borrow in his endeavour to circulate +the Scriptures, and having accumulated an immense library of religious +books, some of which were bequeathed to Wiffen, some to the British and +Foreign Bible Society, and some to the great library at Madrid, he died +in August, 1865. See the works of Wiffen and Boehmer; Menendez Pelayo, +_Heterodoxos Españoles_, lib. viii. cap. 2; and finally Mayor, _Spain_, +_Portugal_, _and the Bible_ (London, 1892). + +{2} Chili in 1810–1818; Paraguay in 1811–1814; La Plata in 1810–1816; +Mexico in 1810–1821; Peru and Bolivia not until 1824. + +{3} The Duc de Berri was the second son of the Comte d’Artois, and as +his elder brother, the Duc d’Angoulême, was childless, he was practically +heir to the crown of France, and his assassination in 1820 had a most +disastrous effect upon the royalist fortunes in that country. The son +that was born to his wife some months after his death was the Duc de +Bordeaux, better known in our own times as the Comte de Chambord, “Henri +V.” + +{4a} She was proclaimed in 1833; again on attaining her majority in +1843; and was formally deposed in 1868. She still (1895) lives in Paris. + +{4b} Queen Christina soon afterwards married her paramour, Ferdinand +Muñoz, created Duke of Rianzares. + +{4c} It was a curious coincidence that Don Carlos, Pretender in Spain, +and Dom Miguel, Pretender in Portugal, should have left Lisbon on the +same day in an English ship. + +{7a} See Duncan, _The English in Spain_, p. 26. + +{8} In the words of an ancient chronicler, “Tuvose por muy cierto, que +le fueron dadas yerbas” (Zurita, _Anales de Aragon_, lib. xviii. cap. 7). + +{14a} Villages between Madrid and Toledo. + +{1} Mendizabal had become Premier and Minister of Finance in September, +and the new Cortes was opened at Madrid by a speech from the throne on +November 16. + +{3a} _Bethlehem_. The church was founded on the spot where Vasco da +Gama embarked for his memorable voyage, July 8, 1497. + +{3b} More correctly _Caes do Sodré_, now the _Praça dos Romulares_. + +{3c} Sir Charles Napier (1786–1860) defeated and destroyed the Miguelite +squadron off Cape St. Vincent on July 3, 1833. + +{5} One of the peculiarities of Lisbon is the number and variety of the +names borne by the same street or square. This noble square, nearly 600 +feet long by 500 wide, is, as may be supposed, no longer known by the +name of the detested Inquisition, but is officially designated _Praça do +Commercio_; it is invariably spoken of by the Portuguese inhabitants as +the _Terreiro do Paço_, and by the English as Blackhorse Square, from the +fine equestrian statue of King José I., erected in 1775. + +{6a} Henry Fielding, born 1707, died at Lisbon, 1754. + +{6b} Dr. Philip Doddridge, born 1702, died at Lisbon, 1751. + +{7b} Cintra is an agglomeration of beauties, natural and architectural, +and is full of historic and antiquarian interest. The greater part of +the buildings are Moorish; but, unlike the Alhambra in Spain, it has been +the abode of Christian kings ever since the expulsion of the Moslems in +the twelfth century, and the palace especially is to-day a singular and +most beautiful mixture of Moorish and Christian architecture. + +{8a} Tivoli (_Tibur_) is eighteen miles north-east of Rome. + +{8b} Born 1554, succeeded to the throne 1557, killed in battle in Africa +in 1578. + +{9a} Alcazar-Kebir al-Araish, near Tangier or Larache, in Morocco. + +{9b} João or John de Castro, the _Castro forte_ of Camoens, second only +to Vasco da Gama, among the great Portuguese discoverers and warriors of +the sixteenth century, was born in 1500, appointed governor-general of +the Portuguese Indies in 1546, and died in 1548. After a deadly battle +with the Moslems near Goa, in which his son Ferdinand was killed, he +pledged the hairs of the moustache and beard of his dead son to provide +funds, not to defend, but to re-fortify the city of Goa. The money was +cheerfully provided on this slender security, and punctually repaid by +the borrower. + +{9c} William Beckford of Fonthill, the author of _Vathek_. His _Quinta +de Montserrat_, with perhaps the most beautiful gardens in Europe, lies +about three miles from the palace at Cintra, and is now in the possession +of Sir Francis Cook, Bart., better known by his Portuguese title of +Visconde de Montserrat. + +{11} A version of the entire Scriptures from the Vulgate was published +in twenty-three volumes 12mo at Lisbon, 1781–83 by Dr. Antonio Pereira de +Figueiredo. This was re-edited and published at Lisbon, 1794–1819. An +earlier version was that of Almeida, a Portuguese missionary in Ceylon, +who became a convert to Protestantism at the close of the seventeenth +century. (See note on p. 98.) + +{12} If Cintra is the Alhambra of Portugal, Mafra is the Escurial. The +famous convent was, moreover, founded by John V. in fulfilment of a vow. +The building was commenced in 1717, and the church consecrated only in +1730. + +{14b} He was killed in June, 1835. (See Introduction.) + +{16} _Alem_, “beyond;” _Tejo_, the river Tagus. + +{18} “I, who am a smuggler.” The Spanish version, “_Yo que soy_,” etc., +is more familiar, and more harmonious. + +{19} “When the king arrived.” + +{25a} So spelt by Borrow, but the correct Portuguese form is _Dom_. + +{25b} Rabbits were so numerous in the south of the Peninsula in +Carthaginian and Roman times, that they are even said to have given their +name (_Phœn._ “Pahan”) to Hispania. Strabo certainly speaks of their +number, and of the mode of destroying them with ferrets, and the rabbit +is one of the commonest of the early devices of Spain (see Burke’s +_History of Spain_, chap. ii.). + +{28} May 26, 1834. + +{29} The ballad of Svend Vonved, translated from the original Danish, +was included by Borrow in his collection of _Romantic Ballads_, a thin +demy 8vo volume of 187 pages—now very rare—published by John Taylor in +1826. The lines there read as follows:— + + “A wild swine sat on his shoulders broad, + Upon his bosom a black bear snor’d.” + +The original ballad may be found in the _Kjæmpe Viser_, and was +translated into German by Grimm, who expressed the greatest admiration +for the poem. Svend in Danish means “swain” or “youth,” and it is +characteristic of Borrow’s mystification of proper names that he should, +by a quasi-translation and archaic spelling, give the title of the Danish +ballad the appearance of an actual English surname. + +{33a} The Spanish _Seo_ = a cathedral. + +{33b} _Serra_ is the Portuguese form of the Spanish _Sierra_ = a saw. + +{35} The barbarous seaman’s English transliteration of _Setubal_, the +town of Tubal, a word which perpetuates one of the most ancient legends +of Spanish antiquity (see Genesis x. 2, and Burke’s _History of Spain_, +chap. i.). + +{38} 1554–1578 (see note on p. 8). + +{39} “The Fashion or ordering of the Chapel of the most illustrious and +Christian prince, Henry VI. King of England and France, and lord of +Ireland, described for the most serene prince, Alfonso the illustrious +King of Portugal [Alfonso V., ‘The African’] by his humble servant +William Sav., Dean of the aforesaid chapel.” This was William Saye of +New College, Oxford, who was Proctor of the University in 1441, and +afterwards D.D. and Dean of the Cathedral of St. Paul, and of the Chapel +of Henry VI. (See Gutch, _Appendix to Woods Fasti Oxonienses_, p. 48). + +{41} Portuguese _oração_ or _oraçam_—a prayer. + +{44} This, the correct Portuguese form, is that generally used in +English, though the Spanish _auto-de-fé_ is often referred to. + +{47} _Alecrim_ is usually supposed to be a word of Arab origin. The +Spanish for rosemary is, however, quite different, _romero_. The Goths +and Vandals have, it may be noticed in passing, scarcely enriched the +modern vocabulary of the Peninsula by a single word. (See the Glossary.) + +{50} The modern form of “_Hymne Marseillaise_” is less correct. Hymns +of the kind are masculine in French; those that are sung in churches only +are feminine! + +{55} Spanish _hidalgo_. + +{57} “Surrender, scoundrel, surrender!” + +{59a} The Portuguese form. + +{59b} The missing word would seem to be “Catholics.” Borrow was fond of +such, apparently meaningless, mystery. + +{66} Toreno (1786–1843), a statesman and historian, thrice banished on +account of his liberal opinions, died in exile in Paris. His friend +Martinez de la Rosa (1789–1862), who experienced a somewhat similar fate, +was the author of some dramas and a satire entitled _El Cementerio de +Monco_. See Kennedy, _Modern Poets and Poetry of Spain_, p. 169. +Toreno’s historical works have been translated into French. + +{67a} When the Jews were banished from Spain by the Catholic sovereign +in 1492, they were received into Portugal by the more liberal John II., +on payment of a tax or duty of eight _cruzados_. Armourers and smiths +paid four _cruzados_ only. Before the marriage of his cousin, King +Emmanuel, with the widowed Princess Isabella in 1497, the Jews were +subject to renewed persecution in Portugal by arrangement between +Isabella the Catholic and her son-in-law (see Burke’s _History of Spain_, +chaps, xlvi., xlix.). + +{67b} See Appendix to this volume. + +{68} A seaport town in North Africa, better known by the name of +Mogadore (see chap. lii.). + +{69} The name that may not be spoken; that is, Jehovah or _Yahweh_ (see +Glossary, _sub verb_.). + +{70} Strange anecdotes, however, are told, tending to prove that Jews of +the ancient race are yet to be found in Portugal: it is said that they +have been discovered under circumstances the most extraordinary. I am +the more inclined to believe in their existence from certain strange +incidents connected with a certain race, which occurred within the sphere +of my own knowledge, and which will be related further on.—Note by +Borrow. + +{75} Portuguese _real_ = one-twentieth of an English penny. + +{76} The lines, which Borrow, quoting from memory, has not given quite +accurately, occur in the ballad of “The Cout of Keilder.” They are, +according to the text in the edition of 1858, with “Life by Sir Walter +Scott”— + + “The hounds they howled and backward fled, + As struck by Fairy charm” (stan. 16). + +John Leyden, M.D., was born in 1775, near Hawick, and died in Java in +1811, after an adventurous and varied life. His ballad of Lord Soulis is +of the same character as that so highly praised by Borrow. + +{81} The place of the brooks, or water-courses. Sp. _arroyo_ = brook. + +{83} The first Lusitanians of whom we have any record or tradition were +almost certainly Celts. + +{85} May you go with God; _i.e._ God be with you; good-bye. + +{89} The modern Portuguese _vossem_ or _vossé_ has degenerated into a +mode of address to inferiors, and not having any such vocable as the +Spanish Vd nor using the second person plural in ordinary address, as in +French and English, the Portuguese is forced to turn every sentence, “Is +the gentleman’s health good?” “Will Mr. Continho pass the mustard?” “If +Mr. Borrow smokes, will he accept this cigar?” In familiar speech the +second person singular is universally used. + +{90} _Castellano afrancesado Diablo condenado_. The proverb is of very +general application. + +{96} During the Peninsular war, Badajoz was besieged by the French in +1808 and in 1809, and again in 1811, when it surrendered, March 11, to +Soult. It was thrice besieged by Wellington; first on April 20, 1811; +next in May and June of the same year; and thirdly, in the spring of +1812, when he captured the city by storm, on the night of April 6, after +a murderous contest, and a loss, during the twenty days’ siege, of 72 +officers and 963 men killed, and 306 officers and 3483 men wounded. The +province of Badajoz has an area of 8687 square miles, and a population of +(1884) 457,365. + +{98} See note on p. 11. It is uncertain where the missionary Joao +Ferreira d’Almeida made this translation; probably in Ceylon. The place +and date of his death are equally uncertain. His translation, revised by +more than one Dutch scholar, was finally printed in 1712 at Amsterdam, at +the cost of the Dutch East India Company. When the British and Foreign +Bible Society first undertook the publication of the Bible in Portuguese +in the years 1809–1810, this version of Almeida was selected; but the +objections made to its accuracy were so numerous that in 1818, and again +in 1821, a reprint of Pereira’s translation was adopted in its place. + +{99} This was indeed treason, when the “1811’s” were in their prime, and +the “1834’s” were already maturing. But ordinary port wine, as made up +for the English market, was rather filthy, and as remade up by the grocer +or small wine merchant in England, resembled blacking rather than the +juice of the grape. + +{100} This is certainly not true now. Perhaps, if Borrow’s explanation +is the true one, in that we have not of late “roughly handled” our +jealous neighbours, Sebastopol and Pekin and excuses for being in Egypt +have dulled the friendly feelings generated by Vitoria and Waterloo! + +{102a} “Charity, Sir Cavalier, for the love of God, bestow an alms upon +me, that I may purchase a mouthful of red wine.” + +{102b} “St. James and close Spain!” The battle-cry of Castilian +chivalry for a thousand years. + +{102c} Every one who has gone from Portugal into Spain must understand +and sympathize with Borrow’s feelings. I have even felt something of the +same expansion in South America, when the Brazilian gave place to the +Argentine. I have no doubt that the language has a great deal to say to +it. + +{103a} In _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. i., the date is given as January +6, 1836. + +{103b} They are as old as the ancient Celtiberian times, and are +mentioned as σάγοι in a treaty, over 150 years B.C., by Appian, in his +_Iberica_. + +{104} I suppose Portugal, Spain, and England. + +{105a} See _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. i. + +{105b} For the meaning of this and other gypsy words, see the Glossary. + +{106a} See _The Zincali_, part i. chap. vii., part ii. chap. vi., +_Romano Lavo-Lil_, p. 244. + +{106b} See _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. vi. + +{108} _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. i. + +{110} “I do not understand.” + +{112} Spirit of the old man. + +{114a} Deceived. An English termination added to a Spanish termination +of a Romany word, _jonjabar_, _q.v._ in Glossary. + +{114b} _El crallis ha nicobado la liri de los Calés_. (See _The +Zincali_ part ii. chap. i.) + +{115} “Doing business, doing business; he has much business to do.” + +{116} “We have the horse.” + +{118} See _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. vi. + +{120} “Don’t trouble yourself,” “Don’t be afraid.” See vol. ii. p. 2. +_Cuidao_ is Andalusian and Gitano for _cuidado_. + +{122} See _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. vi. + +{123a} Mother of the gypsies. + +{123b} See _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. vii. + +{124} See _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. vi. = _cauring_ in English +Romany. _Romano Lavo-Lil_, p. 245. + +{126} “Say nothing to him, my lad; he is a hog of an _alguazil_.” + +{127} “At your service.” + +{132} “Who goes there?” Fr. _Qui vive_? The proper answer to the +challenge by a Spanish sentry is _España_, “Spain,” or _Piasano_, “a +civilian.” + +{133a} “Shut up;” “Hold your tongue.” + +{133b} Stealing a donkey. + +{135} See _The Zincali_, part i. ch. v. + +{138a} See Introduction. + +{138b} _El Serrador_, a Carlist partisan, who about this period was much +talked of in Spain. Note by Borrow (see the Glossary, _s.v._). + +{138c} He is a man indeed; _lit._ very much a man. + +{143} On foot. + +{146} Estremadura was for long years a vast winter pasturage whither the +flocks from the Castiles were driven each successive autumn, to return to +their own cooler mountains on the return of summer. The flocks were +divided into _cabañas_ of about 10,000 sheep, in charge of fifty +shepherds and fifty of their immense dogs. + +{150a} “All are taken.” + +{150b} No doubt Oropesa, where the Duke of Frias has an ancient and +somewhat dilapidated palace. + +{152} Las Batuecas is a valley in the south-west corner of the modern +province of Salamanca, four leagues from the city of that name, eight +leagues from Ciudad Rodrigo, and about six leagues from Bejar. The +principal town or village in the remote valley itself was Alberca. The +strange inhabitants of the valley of Batuecas are entirely legendary, as +is the story of their discovery by a page of the Duke of Alva in the +reign of Philip II. See _Verdadera relacion de las Batuecas_, by Manuel +de Gonzalez (Madrid, 1693), Ponz, _Viaje_ vii. 201; Feijoo, _Teatro +Critico_, iv. 241, where the valley is compared with the equally mythical +island of Atlantis. + +{153} More commonly spelt ticking. + +{154} See _Lavengro_, chap. 1. + +{156a} The conventional diminutive of Pepa, which is itself the +diminutive of Josefa, as is Pepe of Josefe. + +{156b} This is, of course, a fancy name. Borrow has chosen that of a +Spanish Jew, one of the great Rabbinical commentators. See _The +Zincali_, part i. chap. ii. + +{157a} This concession to local prejudice is delightful. But it must be +remembered that _barraganeria_ or recognized concubinage was approved by +Church and State in Spain for many hundred years. See Burke’s _History +of Spain_, vol. i., Appendix ii. + +{157b} Ferdinand the Catholic and his wife Isabella. Their systematic +persecution and banishment of the Jews—the edict was dated March 30, +1492—are well known. + +{162} The street of the Bramble. + +{163} See the Introduction, and Duncan, _The English in Spain_, +_passim_. + +{164a} Juan Alvarez y Mendizabal was a more or less Christianized Jew, +who began his career as a commissariat contractor to the national army on +the French invasion in 1808. Born in 1790, he rendered important +services to Spain, until in 1823 he was compelled, like so many of his +liberal compatriots, to take refuge in England from the tyranny of +Ferdinand VII. Abroad as well as at home, he displayed his great talent +for finance for the benefit of Spain, and returned in 1835 as Minister of +Finance in the Toreno Administration. He resigned in 1837, was again +called to power in 1841, and died in 1853. + +{164b} The honourable George Villiers was our Minister at Madrid from +1833 to March, 1838, when, having succeeded to the title of his uncle as +Earl of Clarendon, he returned to England, where in course of time he +became Lord Lieutenant of Ireland and Foreign Minister. + +{166a} I have been so far unable to discover the name of this gentleman. + +{166b} Mendizabal, as has been said, was a Jew by race. + +{168} The word “cigarette” was not yet naturalized in England. The +thing itself was practically unknown; even cigar was sometimes spelt +_segar_. + +{169} _Ojalateros_, criers of _ojala_; Arab. _Inshallah_, “if it please +God,” “would to God.” _Pasteleros_, pastry-cooks, “wishers and dishers.” + +{170a} See the Glossary. + +{170b} “A gypsy matron without honour spoke to her man of blood.” + +{170c} These are not fanciful names. Francisco Montes, who was born in +1805, was not only a celebrated _matador_, but the author of a work on +Tauromachia; he appeared in the ring for the last time in 1850, and died +in 1851. _Sevilla_ was the name borne by many less distinguished +_toreadores_; Francisco Sevilla, the _picador_, who appeared for the last +time in 1838, is perhaps the man referred to. _Poquito Pan_, or Bit of +Bread, was the Tauromachian nickname of Antonio Sanchez, one of the +favourite _picadores_ in the _cuadrilla_ or band of Montes. + +{171} A gallows-show. Yet, as will be seen in the text, the gallows or +_furca_ itself is no longer used. + +{172} Peace, pity, and tranquillity. + +{174a} _Manolo_ is a somewhat difficult word to translate; it is applied +to the flash or fancy man and his _manola_ in Madrid only, a class fond +of pleasure, of fine clothes, of bull-fights, and of sunshine, with a +code of honour of their own; men and women rather picturesque than +exemplary, and eminently racy of the soil. + +{174b} In 1808. + +{175} At the last attack on Warsaw, when the loss of the Russians +amounted to upwards of twenty thousand men, the soldiery mounted the +breach, repeating, in measured chant, one of their popular songs, “Come, +let us cut the cabbage,” etc.—[Note by Borrow.] See the Glossary, _s.v. +Mujik_. + +{176} “Another glass; come on, little Englishman, another glass.” + +{177a} See note on chap. x. p. 138. + +{177b} _Montero_ in Spanish means “a hunter;” and a _montero_ cap, which +every reader of Sterne is familiar with at least by name, is a cap, +generally of leather, such as was used by hunters in the Peninsula. + +{177c} Twelve ounces of bread, small pound, as given in the prison. +[Note by Borrow.] + +{178} According to the late Marquis de Santa Coloma, as reported by Mr. +Wentworth Webster (_Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society_, vol. i. p. 151), +“in Madrid Borrow used to ride a fine black Andalusian horse (_v. p_. +261), with a Russian skin for a saddle, and _without stirrups_.” This +was, however, during his second visit, and _Don Jorge_ may have changed +his practice. That he could ride without stirrups, or saddle either, is +certain (p. 308, and _Lavengro_, chap. xiii.). + +{180a} General Cordova had been entrusted from the beginning of the war +with high command in the queen’s armies. He succeeded Valdez as +commander-in-chief immediately after the death of Zumalacarregui, at the +end of June, 1835, to the end of August, 1836, when he was succeeded by +Espartero. See Duncan, _The English in Spain_, pp. 58, 72. + +{180b} See Introduction, and _Revue des Deux Mondes_, 15 fevrier, 1851. + +{181a} May, 1836. + +{181b} Don Francisco Xavier de Isturitz was born in 1790, and after +taking part in the various liberal governments from 1808 to 1823, was +forced to fly to England on the absolutist counter-revolution in that +year. He returned to Spain on the amnesty in 1834, and on the fall of +his old friend Mendizabal in 1836, he became minister for foreign +affairs, and lived to negotiate the “Spanish marriages,” and to occupy +many high political and diplomatic posts under Isabella II. + +{181c} See Introduction, p. xxiii. + +{183} “He will do what you want for you: will gratify your fancy.” + +{186} “Stuff and nonsense.” + +{187} Charles III. of Spain (1759–1788). See _The Zincali_, part i. +chap. xii. + +{188} “How goes it?” + +{190} Whether this episode of Benedict Mol has any foundation in fact I +cannot say. I was on the point of starting for Compostella, where I +might have investigated the incident detailed, vol. ii. p. 183, and I had +actually paid for my ticket to Irun (May 2, 1895), when I was summoned to +a more distant shrine on the slopes of the Southern Pacific. + +{191} A _cuarto_, a trifle over an English farthing, being almost +exactly 4/34 of 2½_d._ + +{192} “In short.” + +{193a} Borrow writes indifferently _Saint James_, _St. Jago_, and +_Santiago_. The last is the correct Spanish form, while the English +usually speak of the place as Compostella. It has been thought best to +retain the form used by the author in each case. + +{193b} Witch. Ger. _Hexe_.—[Note by Borrow.] + +{193c} “Thanks be to God!” + +{194} See note on p. 340. + +{196} Señor Menendez Pelayo remarks that the government was too busy +with Carlists in the country and revolutionaries in the city to care very +much about Borrow or the Bible, and they therefore allowed him for the +moment to do pretty much as he pleased (_Heterodoxos Españoles_, tom. +iii. p. 662). + +{197} Or San Ildefonso. + +{198} This was August 14, 1836. + +{199} The General Post-office. + +{204a} Gypsy fellows. + +{204b} A compound of the modern Greek πέταλον, and the Sanscrit _kara_, +the literal meaning being _Lord_ of the horse-shoe (i.e. _maker_); it is +one of the private cognominations of “The Smiths,” an English gypsy +clan.—[Note by Borrow.] See _The Zincali_, vol. i. p. 31; _Romano +Lavo-Lil_, p. 226, and the Glossary. + +{206} Of these lines the following translation, in the style of the old +English ballad, will, perhaps, not be unacceptable:— + + “What down the hill comes hurrying there?— + With a hey, with a ho, a sword and a gun! + Quesada’s bones, which a hound doth bear. + Hurrah, brave brothers!—the work is done.” + +—[Note by Borrow.] + +{207a} “One night I was with thee.” + +{207b} Don Rafael, son of D. Eugenio Antonio del Riego y Nuñez, whose +poems were published in 1844 by D. Miguel del Riego, Canon of Oviedo, was +born at Oviedo on the 24th October, 1785. On the 1st January, 1820, he +began the revolt against Ferdinand VII. (see Introduction, p. xvi.), at +Las Cabezas de San Juan. He was finally hanged at Madrid on the 7th +November, 1823. _El Himno de Riego_, the Spanish _Marseillaise_, was +composed by Huerta in 1820, the words being written by Evariste +San-Miguel. + +{207c} “_Au revoir_, Sir George!” + +{208} 1836. + +{212a} Dom José Agostinho Freire was minister of war to Dom Pedro, and +subsequently minister of the interior under the Duke of Terceira. In +1836 he was murdered at Lisbon by the National Guard, while driving in +his carriage. + +{212b} The Carlist leader. See Duncan, _The English in Spain_, p. 88. + +{214} Latin, _Bætis_ = the river afterwards named by the Arabs _Wady al +Kebir_, the _Guadalquivir_. + +{215} The vane, _porque gira_. The modern tower is about 275 feet high. +See Girault de Prangey, _Essai sur l’Architecture des Maures et Arabes_ +(1841), pp. 103–112. + +{216a} The largest and perhaps the grandest of the mediæval cathedrals, +not only of Spain, but of Europe. It was commenced in 1403, and +completed about 1520. + +{216b} 1350–1369. + +{216c} Triana, for long the Whitefriars or Alsatia of Seville, the +resort of thieves, gypsies, and _mala gente_ of every description. See +_Zincali_, pt. ii. chap. ii. The Arabic _Tarayana_ is said to perpetuate +the name of the Emperor Trajan, who was certainly born in the +neighbourhood, and who would not be proud of his supposed +_conciudadanos_! The modern suburb was almost entirely destroyed by the +overflowing of the Guadalquivir in 1876. There is now (1895) a permanent +bridge across the river. + +{218} This is, I think, a good English word. The Spanish form would be +_desesperados_. + +{220} King of the gypsies in Triana. + +{221} Isidore Justin Severin, Baron Taylor, was born at Brussels in +1789. His father was an Englishman, and his mother half Irish, half +Flemish. Isidore was naturalized as a Frenchman, and after serious +studies and artistic travels throughout Europe, he returned to France on +the Restoration with a commission in the Royal Guard. His _Bertram_, +written in collaboration with Charles Nodier, had a great success on the +Paris stage in 1821. In 1823 he accompanied the French army to Spain, +and on his return was made Commissaire Royal du Théâtre Français, in +which capacity he authorized the production of _Hernani_ and the _Mariage +de Figaro_. In 1833 he arranged for the transport of the two obelisks +from Luxor to Paris, and in 1835 he was commissioned by Louis Philippe +with an artistic mission to Spain to purchase pictures for the Louvre, +and on his return, having transferred the Standish collection of +paintings from London to Paris, he was named Inspecteur-Général des beaux +arts in 1838. He died in 1879. + +{223} _Alcalá de Guadaira_; Arabic, _Al-Kal’ah_, the fort, or castle. A +name necessarily often repeated in Spain, where the Goths, who are so +proudly remembered, have left so few records of their three hundred +years’ dominion in the place-names of the Peninsula, and where the Arab, +at all times detested, is yet remembered in the modern names of wellnigh +every town, river, and headland in Southern Spain, and in many places +throughout the entire Peninsula. The most celebrated of all these +castles is, of course, _Alcalá de Henares_, the birthplace of Cervantes, +the seat of the great university of Ximenes. This _Alcalá_ is known as +that of Guadaira, _i.e._ the river of Aira, the Arabic _Wady al Aira_. +The town at the present day, though small, is a very important place, +with some eight thousand inhabitants, and over two hundred flour-mills, +and is known as the “oven of Seville,” _El horno de Sevilla_. +Carmona—the Roman Carmo and Arab Karmanah—with double the population, was +the last stronghold of Peter the Cruel, and is full of historic +associations. + +{226} Madoz, in his _Diccionario Geografico-estadistico_, published in +1846, half a dozen years after the date of Borrow’s visit, says nothing +under _Carolina_, _Carlota_, or _Luisiana_ of this supposed German +colonization. Yet Carolina and eighty-four neighbouring villages form a +most interesting district, known as the _Nuevas poblaciones de Sierra +Morena_, especially exempted from taxation and conscription on their +foundation or incorporation by Olavides, the Minister of Charles III., in +1768. It is possible that some German colonists were introduced at that +time. Among the eighty-five _pueblos_ constituting this strange district +is the historic _Navas de Tolosa_, where the Moors were so gloriously +defeated in 1212. + +{230} Wellington. + +{232} Cordova was taken on October 1, 1836. + +{234} “Look you, what men they were!” + +{235a} ‘The king has come, the king has come, and disembarked at +Belem.’—_Miguelite song_. + +{235b} Charles V., or _Carlos Quinto_, is the title all too meekly +accorded even in Spain to their king Charles I., fifth only of German +Karls on the imperial throne, the Holy Roman Emperor. If Charles himself +was not unpopular in Spain, even though he kept his mother Joanna, the +legitimate queen, under lock and key, that he might reign as Charles the +_First_ in Spain, his Germans and his Germanism were devoutly hated. The +next Carlos who reigned in Spain, correctly styled the _Second_, was +nearly a fool, but Charles III. was the best and most enlightened of the +sovereigns of Spain until the days of Alfonso XII. Charles IV. abdicated +under pressure of Napoleon in 1808, and then Don Carlos the Pretender +naturally assumed the style and title of Charles the _Fifth_. + +{236a} See Introduction. + +{236b} The Genoese was presumably referring to the sister-in-law of Don +Carlos, called _La Beira_. See Ford, _Handbook of Spain_, 1st edit., p. +822. + +{239} This is not strictly accurate. The Mezquita, as designed by Abdur +Rahmán I. in 786, contained about 1200 pillars; when the mosque was +enlarged by Almanzor at the end of the tenth century, the number was +doubtless increased. Yet at the present day more than nine hundred are +still standing in the building, which ranks _second_ as regards area +among the churches of Christendom, and in historic interest is surpassed +only by the Mosque of Agia Sofia at Constantinople (see Burke’s _History +of Spain_, vol. i. pp. 130–133). + +{240a} Morocco. + +{240b} The Abencerrages were a family, or perhaps a faction, that held a +prominent position in the Moorish kingdom of Granada for some time before +its fall in 1492. The name is said to be derived from Yusuf ben Cerrág, +the head or leader of the family in the time of Mohammed VII., but +nothing is known with any certainty of their origin. In the _Guerras +civiles de Granada_ of Gines Perez de Hita, the feuds of the Abencerrages +with the rival family of the Zegris is an important incident, and +Chateaubriand’s _Les Aventures du dernier Abencerages_ is founded upon +Hita’s work. + +{241a} A _haji_ is a man who has made the _haj_ or pilgrimage to Mecca. +As a title it is prefixed to the name. The Levantine Greeks who have +made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem are also accustomed to use the same title, +and their “Haji Michaeli” or “Haji Yanco” is as common a mode of address +as “Haji Ali.” “Haji Stavros” in About’s _Roi des Montagnes_ may be +happily remembered. + +{241b} The great city of Negroland is, I presume, Khartoum, capital of +the Soudan, known to our fathers as _Nigritia_. + +{242a} Philip II., eldest son of Carlos I. of Spain (the Emperor Charles +V.), married Mary of England the 25th of July, 1555. + +{242b} _The Mystery of Udolpho_, the once celebrated but now forgotten +romance of Mrs. Radcliffe (1764–1823). + +{243a} “Sir George of my soul,” _i.e._ “My dear Sir George.” + +{243b} Puente. See _The Zincali_, part i. chap. ix. + +{243c} See _ante_, note on p. 235. + +{246} The House of the Inquisition, or Holy Office. + +{247} “What do I know?” + +{249a} “So pretty, so smart.” + +{249b} Query, the Epistle to the Romans.—[Note by Borrow.] + +{250} Bad fellows, the French _mauvais sujets_. + +{254a} _Real_, _i.e._ royal, the first coin of Christian Spain, as +opposed to the Moorish _maravedi_. The first _real_ of which we have any +certain knowledge was struck by Henry II. on May 15, 1369. The value of +the _real_ is now about 2½_d._ English money, but as a unit of value and +computation it has been officially supplanted since 1870 by the _peseta_ +or _franc_ of 9¾_d._ See Burke’s _History of Spain_, vol. ii. pp. +281–286. + +{254b} Carlist leaders. + +{257} There are at least three districts in Spain known as the Sagra: +one in Alicante, one in Orense, and another near Toledo which includes 27 +miles by 24 miles of country to the north of the city. Amongst the +villages included in the district are Yuncler, Yunclillos, and Yuncos, +whose names would seem to tell of some foreign origin. The origin of the +word Sagra is most uncertain. It was commonly said to be _Sacra_ +_Cereris_, on account of the abundant harvests of the district, and has +also been derived from the Arab _Ṣaḥ_ = a field. + +{258} This was Don Vicente Lopez y Portaña, who was born at Valencia in +1772, and died at Madrid in 1850. His pictures were as a rule +allegorical in subject, and his son, Don Bernardo Lopez, was also alive +at this time, and died only in 1874. + +{259a} Don Andrés Borrego, author of _La Historia de las Córtes de +España durante el siglo_ XIX. (1885), and other political works. + +{259b} See vol. ii. p. 242. + +{261} _V._ p. 178. + +{262} Not Cabrera himself, but his subordinate Zariategui, an old friend +and comrade of Zumalacarregui. This was on August 11, 1837. See Duncan, +_The English in Spain_, p. 152. + +{263} Lord Carnarvon, of course, would not have endorsed these opinions. +See Introduction, and Duncan _ub. sup. passim_. + +{265a} Pera can hardly be said to be near Constantinople. It is the +_Franc_ quarter of the city, separated no doubt from Stambul by the +Golden Horn, and undoubtedly very beautiful. Buchini is hardly a Greek +name, and Antonio was no doubt like so many of his kind, of Italian +origin. My own faithful Spiro Varipati was a Constantinopolitan Greek of +Cerigo. + +{265b} More usually spelt Syra. + +{266a} This was possibly the period when Admiral Duckworth attempted to +force the passage of the Dardanelles.—[Note by Borrow.] + +{266b} Cean Bermudez, the celebrated art critic, traveller, and +dilettante, the author of numerous works on art and architecture, more +especially in the Peninsula, was born in 1749, exiled 1801–8, and died in +1829. _C_ and _z_ before _e_ have the same sound in Castilian. + +{268} See Glossary. + +{269a} Nowadays he would call himself a Έλλην. + +{269b} “Good luck to thee, Antonio!” + +{271} Mr. Southern. + +{274a} Romany _chal_ = gypsy lad. + +{274b} “Good horse! gypsy horse! +Let me ride thee now.” + +{277a} _Céad mile fáille_! Pronounce _Kaydh meela faulthia_. + +{277b} _Estremeño_, a native of the province of Estremadura. + +{279} See note on p. 193. + +{280a} The _Colegio de Nobles Irlandeses_, founded in 1792 by Philip +II., is at present housed in a building of the earliest and best period +of the Spanish _cinquecento_, founded in 1521 by Archbishop Fonseca as +the _Colegio Mayor del Apostol Santiago_. It was built by Pedro de +Ibarra. + +{280b} As is recorded in the second chapter of _Gil Blas_. + +{282} I.e. _el cura_, the parish priest; Fr. _curé_. Our “curate” is +rather _el vicario_; Fr. _vicaire_. + +{284} _Arapiles_ is the name by which the great English victory of +Salamanca is known to French and Spanish writers. It was fought on July +22, 1812, and the news reached Napoleon on the banks of the Borodino on +September 7, inducing that strange hesitation and want of alacrity which +distinguished his operations next day. The village of Arapiles is about +four miles from Salamanca. + +{287} Savage mules. + +{290} “See the crossing! see what devilish crossing!” _Santiguar_ is to +make the sign of the cross, to cross one’s self. _Santiguo_ is the +action of crossing one’s self. + +{291} As late as 1521, Medina del Campo was one of the richest towns in +Spain. Long one of the favourite residences of the Castilian court, it +was an emporium, a granary, a storehouse, a centre of mediæval luxury and +refinement. But the town declared for the _Comuneros_ of Castile, and +was so pitilessly sacked, burned, and ravaged by the Flemish Cardinal +Adrian, acting for the absent Charles of Hapsburg (in 1521), that it +never recovered anything of its ancient importance. The name, half Arab, +half Castilian, tells of its great antiquity. To-day it is known only as +a railway station! + +{292} “_Carajo_, what is this?” + +{293a} We have adopted in English the Portuguese form Douro, which gave +the title of Marquis to our great duke . . . of Ciudad Rodrigo, as the +Spaniards prefer to call him. + +{293b} Madhouse. + +{293c} “May the Virgin protect you, sir:” lit. “May you go with the +Virgin.” + +{293d} Valladolid, like so many place-names, not only in southern, but +in central Spain, is Arabic, _Balad al Walid_, “the land of _Walid_,” the +caliph in whose reign the Peninsula was overrun by the Moslems. The more +ancient name of _Pincia_ is lost. + +{295} A friend and comrade of Zumalacarregui, who came into notice after +the death of the greater leader in June, 1835. + +{296a} The _Colegio de Ingleses_ was endowed by Sir Francis Englefield, +a partisan of Mary Queen of Scots, who came to Spain after her execution. +Philip II. granted certain privileges to the students in 1590. The +number of students at the present day is about 45. + +{296b} The _Celegio de Escoceses_ was founded only in 1790. + +{298} _I.e._ uncontaminated with the black blood of Moorish or Jewish +converts; possibly also referring to the use of “New Castilian” for +“Gitano.” See _The Zincali_, part i. chap. i. + +{299} _Temp_. Elizabeth and James I. + +{300a} Celebrated also for the great victory of Ferdinand of Aragon over +Alfonso the African of Portugal (February, 1476), by which the succession +of Isabella to the crown of Castile was assured, and the pretension of +her niece _Juana la Beltraneja_ for ever put an end to. + +{300b} _Alcayde_, the Arabic governor of a castle, or fortress, is +commonly used in modern Spanish for a jailer, a governor of a prison; the +somewhat similar word, _alcalde_, also an Arabic word, meant, and still +means, the mayor of a town. + +{303} It was at Dueñas that Ferdinand and Isabella held their little +court immediately after their marriage in October, 1469. + +{304a} Government requisition. See _ante_, p. 261. + +{304b} The officers, no doubt, of the Spanish Legion and Contingent. +See Introduction. + +{304c} “Hold hard, you gypsy fellows! you forget that you are soldiers, +and no longer swapping horses in a fair.” + +{305a} See note on p. 120. + +{305b} That is, gold _onzas_. + +{309a} The Roman Pallantia; the seat of the first university in Castile, +transferred in 1239 to the more celebrated city of Salamanca. + +{309b} The cathedral was commenced in 1321, and finished about two +hundred years later. As it now stands, the exterior is unsatisfactory; +the interior is most picturesque, and full of remarkable monuments, +including the tomb of the wicked Queen Urraca, who died in 1126. + +{310a} These “paintings of Murillo” are imaginary. There are some good +pictures now in the _Sala capitular_—one by Ribera, one by Zurbaran, and +a third by Mateo Cerezo. The paintings in the church itself are +unimportant, and are rather German than Spanish in character. + +{310b} The Sierra de Oca, to the east of Burgos, about sixty miles as +the crow flies to the north-east of Palencia. + +{311} Possibly Cisneros or Calzada. Sahagun, which lies just halfway +between Palencia and Leon on the high-road, is rather a small town than a +large village, and, though shorn of all its former splendour, would have +afforded the travellers better quarters. + +{312} See Introduction. + +{313} A familiar Spanish locution—of which the meaning is sufficiently +obvious—derived originally, no doubt, from the game of chess, a game of +oriental origin, and no doubt introduced into Spain by the Arabs. Roque +is the rook or castle; Rey, of course, the king. + +{315} The name of Leon has nothing to do with lions, but is a corruption +of _legionis_, or the city of the 7th Legion, quartered here by Augustus +to defend the Cantabrian frontier. The city is full of historic +interest, and bears the records of the conquerors of many ages and +nations. + +The cathedral referred to by Borrow was finished about 1300, after having +been at least a hundred years a-building, and is in the early pointed +style of what we call Gothic, but the Spaniards Tudesque. The west front +and the painted glass windows in the aisles are of unrivalled beauty. + +The church of San Isidoro, with the tombs of that great metropolitan and +of Alfonso el Batallador, of inferior æsthetic interest, is even more +attractive to the antiquary. + +{318} Astorga is an old Roman town, _Asturica Augusta_, established +after the Cantabrian war (B.C. 25), when the southern _Astures_ first +became subject to Rome. But a far more ancient origin is claimed for the +city, which was traditionally founded by _Astur_, the son of Memnon (see +Silius Italicus, iii. 334; Martial, xiv. 199). The surrounding country +of the _Astures_ was celebrated at once for the riches of its gold-mines +and for its breed of horses, whence the Latin _Asturco_ (see Petron., +_Sat._, 86, and Seneca, _Ep._, 87; Pliny, viii. 42, s. 67). + +{319} Borrow has it Coruña, but it should be either La Coruña, if +written in Spanish, or Corunna, if written in English. Our ancestors, +who had good reason to know the place, called it The Groyne, but it would +be pedantic to so call it now. + +{321} The origin of the Maragatos has never been ascertained. Some +consider them to be a remnant of the Celtiberians, others of the +Visigoths; most, however, prefer a Bedouin or caravan descent. It is in +vain to question these ignorant carriers as to their history or origin, +for, like the gypsies, they have no traditions and know nothing. +_Arrieros_, at all events, they are, and that word, in common with so +many others relating to the barb and carrier-caravan craft, is Arabic, +and proves whence the system and science were derived by Spaniards. +Where George Borrow and Richard Ford are so uncertain, it is assuredly +unbecoming to dogmatize. Mariana (vol. i. lib. vii. cap. 7), speaking of +King Mauregato, who is supposed, as much from his name as from anything +else, to have been an illegitimate son of Alfonso I. by a _Moorish_ lady, +seeks to trace the origin of the Maragatos as being more especially the +subjects of Mauregato, but it is rather an extravagant fancy than an +explanation. + +Monsieur Francisque Michel, in his _Races Maudites de la France et de +l’Espagne_ (Paris, 1847), has nothing to say of these Maragatos, though +he notices (ii. 41–44) a smaller tribe, the _Vaqueros_, of the +neighbouring Asturias, whose origin is also enveloped in mystery. See De +Rochas, _Les Parias de France et l’Espagne_, p. 120. [The _Cagots_ were +also found in northwest Spain as well as in France, but not, as far as we +know, to the west of Guipuzcoa. For an account of these Cagots and the +various etymologies that have been suggested for their names, see De +Rochas and F. Michel, _ubi supra_, tom. i. ch. i.] + +{322} A transliteration of the old Spanish _Barrete_, an old kind of +helmet, then, generally, a cap. + +{323} A mute is the offspring of a stallion and a she-ass, a mule of a +jackass and a mare. + +{324a} Founded in 1471, on the site of one more ancient. + +{324b} The name of this celebrated _arriero_ was Pedro Mato; the statue +is of wood. + +{327a} The word _Gog_ is not Hebrew, and, according to Renan and Kuöbel +(_Volkert_, p. 63), is “mountain,” and Magog is “great mountain.” +_Maha_, Sanskrit, and _Koh_ or _Goh_, Persian. The legends concerning +Gog and Magog are very numerous, and extend over many parts of Europe, +Asia, and even Africa. + +{327b} “The place of the apples.” + +{329} _Caballero_. As a mode of address in common life, equivalent +merely to _sir_. + +{331a} A Galician or Portuguese, but not a Spanish word, usually spelt +_corço_. The Spanish equivalent is _ciervo_. + +{331b} There is a delightful translation of Theocritus, who by the way +described the scenery of Sicily rather than of Greece, into English verse +by C. S. Calverley, published in 1869. + +{333} Bembibre lies on the southern confines of the district of El +Vierzo, one of the most interesting and least explored parts of the +Peninsula, the Switzerland of Leon, a district of Alpine passes, trout +streams, pleasant meadows, and groves of chestnuts and walnuts. +Bembibre, pop. 500, lies with its old castle on the trout-streams Noceda +and Boeza, amid green meadows, gardens, and vineyards, whose wines were +far more fatal to Moore’s soldiers than the French sabres. So much for +Bembibre—_bene bibere_. Ponferrada (_Interamnium Flavium_), which is not +entered, rises to the left on the confluence of the Sil and Boeza. The +bridge (_Pons-ferrata_) was built in the eleventh century, for the +passage of pilgrims to Compostella, who took the direct route along the +Sil by Val de Orras and Orense. The town afterwards belonged to the +Templars, and was protected by the miraculous image of the Virgin, which +was found in an oak, and hence is called _Nuestra Señora de la Encina_; +it is still the Patroness of the Vierzo (Murray’s _Handbook of Spain_, +1st edit. p. 595). + +The Vierzo extends about 10 leagues east and west by 8 north and south. +This amphitheatre is shut out from the world by lofty snow-capped +mountains, raised, as it were, by the hand of some genii to enclose a +simple valley of Rasselas. The great Asturian chain slopes from +Leitariegos to the south-west, parting into two offshoots; that of El +Puerto de Rabanal, and Fuencebadon (_Fons Sabatonis_) constitute the east +barrier, and the other, running by the Puertos de Cebrero and Aguiar, +forms the frontier; while to the south the chains of the Sierras de +Segundera, Sanabria, and Cabrera complete the base of the triangle. Thus +hemmed in by a natural circumvallation, the concavity must be descended +into from whatever side it be approached; this crater, no doubt, was once +a large lake, the waters of which have burst a way out, passing through +the narrow gorge of the Sil by Val de Orras, just as the Elbe forms the +only spout or outlet to hill-walled-in Bohemia, the _kettle-land_ of +Germany (_Ibid._, p. 597). + +{337a} Rendered by Borrow _rabble_; the French _canaille_; Ital. +_canaglia_, a pack of dogs—_canes_. + +{337b} Known as Villafranca del Vierzo; said to have been one of the +principal halting-places of the French pilgrims to Santiago, hence _Villa +Francorum_; in any case, the abode of an important colony of monks from +the French abbey of Cluny. See Burke’s _History of Spain_, vol. ii. p. +69, and App. II. + +{340} Query _Guerrilleros_ (see Glossary). These _Miguelets_ were +originally the partisans or followers of the Infante Don Miguel, the +absolutist leader in the dreary civil war which ravaged Portugal from +1823–1834. It was their custom to escape into Spain when attacked by the +Constitutional forces in Portugal, and nothing but Mr. Canning’s bold +action in sending an English army to Lisbon in December, 1826, prevented +their being utilized by both Spain and France for the overthrow of Queen +Maria in Portugal (see Alison, _History of Europe_, vol. iv. ch. xxi. s. +50). But as “Miguelets,” part refugees, part rebels, part brigands, +these bands of military ruffians were the terror of the frontier +districts of Spain and Portugal for many years after the conclusion of +the civil war in Portugal. + +{341} _Don Quixote_, part ii. chap. ix. + +{347} _Senhor_ is the Portuguese or Galician form. Borrow has now +crossed the frontier. + +{351} It is possibly an older language than either. It resembles rather +the Portuguese than the Spanish, and is of great interest in many ways. +The great religious poem of Alfonso X., _Los Loores y Milagros de Nuestra +Señora_, written between 1263 and 1284, when the national language was +hardly formed, was written in Galician, though from the beginning of the +fourteenth to the middle of the nineteenth century little attention was +paid to the literary language. Within the last few years a species of +provincial revival has taken place, and the following works among others +have been published in and about the language of Galicia: (1) D. Juan +Saco Arce, _Gramatica Gallega_ (Lugo, 1868), with an appendix of proverbs +and popular songs; (2) Fernandez y Morales, _Ensayos poeticos_, edited by +Don Mariano Cubi y Soler; (3) A. G. Besada, _Historia critica de la +literatura gallega_ (La Coruña, 1887); the works of Manuel Murginà, also +published at La Coruña; Don Juan Cuveiro Piñol’s _Diccionario Gallego_ +and _El habla_, both published at Barcelona in 1876; and, best of all, +Don Manuel Nuñez Valladares’ _Diccionario Gallego-Castillano_ (Santiago, +1884). + +{353} “I believe it!” + +{359} This is a curious blunder. _Lucus Augusti_ was not only never +capital of Roman Spain, but the capital only of _Northern Gallaecia_, or +Galicia; as _Bracara Augusta_, or Braga, was the chief town and seat of a +_Conventus Juridicus_ of southern Galicia, the Minho being the boundary +of the northern and southern divisions of the province. + +Roman Spain was at no time a province, but included, from B.C. 205 to +A.D. 325, many provinces, each with its own provincial capital. In the +division of the Roman world by Constantine, Hispania first became an +administrative unit as a diocese in the Prefecture of Gaul, with its +capital at _Hispalis_ or Seville, the residence of the Imperial Vicar +(see Burke’s _History of Spain_, vol. i. pp. 31, 35, 36). + +{360} “Woe is me, O God!” + +{361} Combats with young bulls, usually by amateur fighters. Although +the animals are immature, and the tips of their horns, moreover, sawn off +to make the sport less dangerous, accidents are far more common than in +the more serious _corridas_, where the professionals take no step without +due deliberation and _secundum artem_. _Novillo_, of course, means only +a young bull; but in common parlance in Spain _los toros_ means +necessarily a serious bull-fight, and _los novillos_ an amateur +exhibition. + +{363} See note on p. 340. + +{365} Span. _anis_ (see Glossary). + +{366a} An _onza_ (see Glossary). + +{366b} The real word, of which this is a modification, is _Carajo_—a +word which, used as an adjective, represents the English “bloody,” and +used as a substantive, something yet more gross. In decent society the +first syllable is considered quite strong enough as an expletive, and, +modified as _Caramba_, may even fall from fair lips. + +{366c} At Seville Borrow seems to have been known as _El brujo_ (_v._ p. +178). + +{368} On the north shore of this bay is built the town of El Ferrol (_el +farol_ = the lighthouse), daily growing in importance as the great naval +arsenal of Spain. + +{369a} More commonly written _puchero_ = a glazed earthenware pot. But +it is the _contents_ rather than the pot that is usually signified, just +as in the case of the _olla_, the round pot, whose savoury contents are +spoken of throughout southern Spain as an _olla_, and in England as _olla +podrida_. + +{369b} Santiago de Compostella (see note on p. 193). As usual I +preserve the author’s original spelling, though St. James is a purely +fanciful name. The Holy Place is known in common Spanish parlance as +Santiago, in classical English more usually as Compostella. + +{370a} Probably Norwich. + +{370b} See _Wild Wales_, chap. xxiv. + +{375} For the etymology of Guadalete, and many references to the river +and to the battle that is said to have been fought on its banks between +the invading Arabs and Roderic, “the last of the Goths,” see Burke’s +_History of Spain_, vol. i. pp. 110, 111, and notes. + +Borrow, in fact, followed almost exactly the line of the celebrated +retreat of Sir John Moore, as may be seen by referring to the map. +Moore, leaving the plain country, and provoked by the ignorant taunts of +Frere to abandon his own plan of marching in safety south-west into +Portugal, found himself on the 28th of December, 1808, at Benavente; on +the 29th, at Astorga; on the 31st, at Villafranca del Vierzo; and thence, +closely pressed day by day by the superior forces of Soult, he passed +through Bembibre, Cacabelos, Herrerias, Nogales, to Lugo, whence, by way +of Betanzos, he arrived on the 11th of January at Corunna. The horrors +of that winter march over the frozen mountains will never fully be known; +they are forgotten in the glorious, if bootless, victory on the +sea-coast, and the heroic death of Moore. The most authoritative account +of Sir John Moore’s retreat, and of the battle of Corunna, is to be found +in the first volume of Napier’s _Peninsular War_; but the raciest is +certainly that in the first edition of Murray’s _Handbook of Spain_, by +Richard Ford. + +{378} A shepherd, we are told, watching his flock in a wild mountain +district in Galicia, was astonished at the appearance of a supernatural +light. The Bishop of _Iria Flavia_ (Padron) was consulted. The place so +divinely illuminated was carefully searched, and in a marble sarcophagus, +the body of Saint James the Greater was revealed to the faithful +investigators. The king, overjoyed at the discovery, at once erected +upon the ground thus consecrated a church or chapel dedicated to the +apostle—the forerunner of the noble cathedral of Santiago de Compostella, +and from the first, the favourite resort of the pilgrims of Christian +Europe. For it was not only a relic, but a legend that had been +discovered by the pious doctors of the church. + +Saint James, it was said, had certainly preached and taught in Spain +during his lifetime. His body, after his martyrdom at Jerusalem in the +year of Christ 42, had been placed by his disciples on board a ship, by +which it was conveyed to the coast of his beloved Spain, miraculously +landed in Galicia, and forgotten for eight hundred years, until the time +was accomplished when it should be revealed to the devoted subjects of +King Alfonso the Chaste. The date of the discovery of the precious +remains is given by Ferreras as 808, by Morales as 835. But as it was +Charlemagne who obtained from Leo III. the necessary permission or +faculty to remove the Episcopal See of _Iria Flavia_ to the new town of +Compostella, the discovery or invention must have taken place at least +before 814, the year of the death of the emperor. Whatever may have been +the actual date of its first establishment; the mean church with mud +walls soon gave place to a noble cathedral, which was finished by the +year 874, consecrated in 899, and destroyed by the Arabs under Almanzor, +nigh upon a hundred years afterwards, in 997. See also Murray’s +_Handbook of Spain_, 1st edit., p. 660, Santiago. + +{380} Or Jet-ery. _Azabache_ is jet or anthracite, of which a great +quantity is found in the Asturias. The word—of Arabic origin—is also +used figuratively for blackness or darkness generally in modern Spanish. + +{382a} “Oh, my God, it is the gentleman!” + +{382b} From the German _betteln_, to beg. + +{384} May, 1823. + +{386} _Meiga_ is not a substantive either in Spanish or Portuguese +(though it is in Galician), but the feminine of the adjective _meigo_, or +_mego_, signifying “kind,” “gentle.” _Haxweib_ is a form of the German +_Hexe Weib_, a witch or female wizard. + +{389} Or El Padron (_Iria Flavia_), the ancient seat of the bishopric, +transferred to the more sacred Santiago de Compostella before the year +814. + +{393} French, _sur le tapis_. + +{394} More correctly, _Caldas de Reyes_. + +{395} Branches of vines supported on or festooned from stakes. Borrow +uses the word for the stakes themselves. The dictionary of the Spanish +Academy has it, “_La vid que se levanta á lo alto y se extiende mucho en +vástagos_,” and derives the word from the Arabic _par_ = extension or +spreading. + +{397} “What folly! what rascality!” + +{399} The names of the ambassadors or envoys actually sent by King Henry +III. to Tamerlane were, in 1399, Pelayo Gomez de Sotomayor and Herman +Sanchez de Palazuelos, and on the second mission in 1403, Don Alfonso de +Santa Maria and Gonzalez de Clavijo, whose account of the voyage of the +envoys has been published both in Spanish and English, and is one of the +earliest and most interesting books of travel in the world. + +{401a} Lord Cobham’s expedition in 1719; the town was taken on October +21. Vigo Street, in London, is called after the Spanish port, in memory +of the Duke of Ormond’s capture of the plate ships in the bay in 1702. +Vigo was also captured by the English under Drake in 1585 and in 1589. + +{401b} See the Glossary, _s.v. Cura_. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIBLE IN SPAIN*** + + +******* This file should be named 35642-0.txt or 35642-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/6/4/35642 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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